I didn’t write this week. I might not have written much last week either. If it makes you feel any better, I did give it some consideration, I just didn’t manage to actually do it. I am a woman who is full of good intentions.
I like the idea of writing, I always think my next piece is going to be my masterpiece. It’s probably a very good job I am not easily disappointed where my dreams are concerned.
If we were having coffee I would tell you that I finally joined Instagram. I don’t know why I have waited all this time. I’m a little like a snail, it may take longer, but I get there in the end.
I’d also tell you that I just watched some guy get his arse tattooed, thankfully however, not in real life. I am currently addicted to the TV show Tattoo Fixers.
Finally I would tell you that this is a quick update to let you know I am alive and kicking, but I am tired and need to get some sleep. I shall hopefully see you all again at the weekend!
Only yesterday I was rejoicing the fact that everyday this week the trains free WiFi has worked allowing me the opportunity to read and actually like posts on Bloglovin. I opened my mouth too soon, because today it has betrayed me. On the only journey of the week where I do not have to change trains, its has decided not to function. Bollocks!
I love the fact that on most days I am able to keep up with the outside world, but I am similarly horrified at how the predictive text or autocorrect on my phone seems to think I speak.
It has this knack, smart little bugger that it is, of changing simple words, that while it may only be one letter, add a different context to a whole sentence. Instead of being ‘on’ the loo, I am ‘in’ the loo. I know you’re wondering how I was even able to type from such a small bowl in the first place!
My friend randomly found this picture on the internet during the week and enquired if it was me. Umm yes it is, apparently my arse is a star, how could she not have known. Actually, maybe I’m just an arse!
This past few days I have actually had enough time to comment on a few posts. Like myself, not everyone is able to reply right there and then, so sometimes I need to remind myself of what I said. It’s usually at this point that overuse of the term ‘FFS’ occurs as I look with horror at how my comments have turned out. I would be first in line to petition for a way to edit my comments on someone else’s blog, not just my own.
Clearly as I type away with merry abandon I do not pay enough attention to the fact that my phone is also merrily typing its own version of my words. Those of you who read my comments must think I’m stupid….I am, but not as much as my phone would lead you to believe. Take that look off your face, I’m being serious.
So forgive me readers, for many times I have sinned against Saint Grammar, but in my defence regardless of whether it was my fault or not, I’m blaming the phone.
In the words of the almighty Bart Simpson, “I didn’t do it, no one saw me do it, you can’t prove anything!”
“Where did they go?” I turned round to ask Paul and then realised he was not there.
A sharp whinny drew my attention to the left, where I came face to nose with a horse. Not just any horse, but a Hungarian Half-Bred, not unlike the one I had been riding 2 minutes ago. Only this one was real and if it wasn’t this was some of the best CGI I had ever seen. Looking around, it was almost like I had been transported into the game.
On hearing footsteps I turned to be confronted by John Marston.
“You going to stand there all day, we have wolves to hunt. Buckle up bitch, it’s time for some real life Red Dead Redemption.”
~
(Written for Monday’s Finish the Story – click link for more information. If you’re not a gamer you may not get the reference, but this reminded me so much of a scene from the game Red Dead Redemption, that I had no other choice. 121 words, slap bang (kinda) in the middle. These are fun, give it a try!)
I wonder if you can buy inspiration in a packet, you know, kinda like you can do with some sauces. Place self in casserole dish, sprinkle with sauce and place in oven at a low heat for however long it takes for ideas to form. Let’s hope someone remembers to take me out before I get crispy.
It’s been a long but short week, if that makes any sense. I’ve achieved a lot for other people, but not really for myself. It’s been nice not being at work, however nerves are already kicking in for my return on Monday. I’ve removed some of my stress by completing tasks that needed done, which hopefully means the next time I take a few days off, I can have some to myself.
Weirdly this week, the thing that had me climbing the walls was trying to purchase a computer. I’ve had my PC for about 5 years and while it still works, when it starts up it’s like a parade of tractors advancing through my room. It’s getting slow in it’s old age too, a little like me. I’ve been keeping an eye on prices for a while and was delighted to see that Dell were offering an extra 10% off on their Inspiron computer. After discussions with the Fathership I headed onto the site to start the purchase process. Things were going well, and with the form filled in I pressed continue and was hit with an error regarding the contact telephone numbers. A little guidance was given, complete area code and then number, however despite the fact that I put the number in every way I could think of, it was not accepted.
As you can guess, I was starting to get a little frustrated at this stage, so I looked to live chat for assistance, but no, not available, despite the fact that it was still within the opening hours. Next the telephone help line, again same thing, after enduring a message informing me of said opening hours, she says thank you and hangs up. WTF!! I’m more than tetchy at this point, and commit my problem to the help desk via e-mail.
The next day I anxiously check my e-mail for a reply. I only have a few days left to avail of the discount before it disappears and had asked how I should complete the contact number in order for the site to accept it. The gentleman replies advising me he can raise an order but not telling me how to complete the number. So I reply with the details of the computer we were after. His next reply left me gutted, the computer was out of stock. After a few more e-mail exchanges I was left still not knowing how to complete the form and with a quote for a more expensive computer. I was right royally pissed at this stage, if the stupid site had worked or the helpline’s were available like they should have been I would have my computer ordered and all. Now however, the whole process has left me a little jaded and I am going to look elsewhere, so if you see any good deals let me know.
If I disappear, you’ll know that my existing computer has finally popped it’s clogs!
Sadly, this it not going to be one of those posts where you try to guess my location. I’m right where I always am, I’m just not sure who I am anymore.
I’ve found this last month or so a real struggle, I’ve been feeling a little disconnected, from pretty much everything. My anxiety levels have been through the roof, which has a knock on effect of a messed up sleep pattern, it’s a vicious circle. I still function, I do all the things I am supposed to, I keep things ticking over, and everyone fed, I go to work and the rest of the time I just feel tired. In my head the world is going to fall apart at any second and believe me, that’s not a nice feeling.
I miss the person I was. I used to be mildly funny. Perhaps in the correct setting I still could be, right now I just feel lost.
This life swamps me sometimes, the enormity of it all. I don’t think about just one person now, I have to think for two. I had trouble enough looking after myself.
I miss writing here, but I have nothing to say but this. I’m left not knowing what to do, should I wait until I have something funny to say, or should I just write everything and hope that the few people who interact don’t run for the hills. It is after all part and parcel of who I am, no one can be funny all of the time, right?!
I was cleaning out my computer of all the junk it has amassed over the last five years it has been with me. Reading through old posts left me wondering who the person who wrote them was, because it feels a world away from who I am now. If I’m also hurtling towards the menopause then I am well and truly fucked, throwing hormones into this mix is going to be about the the same as throwing a firework on a bonfire, looks out folks she’s gonna blow!
The thing is, I’ll get through it, I always do. Tomorrow I’ll get up and I’ll still function exactly as I did today. I’ll write about it and you’ll tell me stupid jokes and make me smile.
One day if I’m lucky, and you lot are incredibly unlucky I might just write a funny post again. Most likely the next one, because it is amazing how cathartic writing this shit actually is :)
Let me start with the bad jokes, to set you off on the right track:
Did you hear the one about the magic tractor? – It was driving down the road when it suddenly turned into a field!
And finally, whilst perusing Spotify this week, they were kind enough to give me a little playlist all of my very own based on the songs I listen to. One of the choices was a band called Amber Run with a song called I found which I love, however for the purposes of this post I am going to leave you with their song called Spark, simply because as the song says, I need to let the light in.
Some time ago the lovely Edwina who has episodes, again (bad girl) set me a challenge, which I am only now getting around to. I must write a paragraph without using the letter E. The actual official rules are as follows:
Write a whole paragraph (a paragraph sounds easy right?)
Without any word containing the letter “e” (still easy for ya?)
By reading this you are already signed up.
Challenge at least five bloggers to do the challenge.
Here after much thought is my effort:
This is hard! Most words contain it, but I must think of how to avoid it showing. I’m having to think hard and wrack my slow top box to skirt around it. Is this a paragraph? I pray it is, for if not I am stuck. I want to run, far away from this string of words. I would whoop, but I will finish with a shush….and go watch tv!
I am not going to nominate anyone, but this was fun, so if you would like to give it a try please feel free.
(I swear e’s kept slipping into my paragraph, if you see one, don’t tell me, I’ll be devastated lol)
You might remember my last post where I told you about my trip to Iceland, sadly not the county, but the frozen food store in the retail park. Rather than a romantic getaway it turned out to be a shopping trip for Harry Ramsden peas. I know right!? Trust me, that look of confusion on your face, I know it well.
I’m starting to think there is something a little fishy about Stuey, aside from the fact that he works in a chip shop. It turns out I’m not the only girl he’s been giving an extra scoop of chips to, nor am I the only one to get invited on the afore mentioned trip.The rumour is, that Ethel, whose Dad owns the local taxi firm is currently flavour of the month, apparently with the discount he saves on the cab fares Stuey buys her bags of peanut M & M’s, a low blow I thought, considering he knows they are my favourite ffs.
In a bid to find out exactly what was going on I, for some strange reason thought it would be a good idea to disguise myself and do some undercover detective work. There wasn’t a lot of costume choice in my house aside from the usual black bags and mop heads, and pretty much everyone has seen me in those already. So I headed round to my Granny’s to see what gems her house would hold. Turns out not much there either, but I was able to borrow a 50’s style pinny, some rollers, a head scarf and a pair of broken false teeth. I just didn’t have a clue what I was going to do with them.
The under layers were easy, and then it came time for the pinny. I know you’ll find it hard to believe for a woman of my intelligence, but that thing had me tied up in knots. It was like a bad night at the WW whatever there was that much wrestling.
Next came the rollers which I pinned not so carefully into my hair, covered up with the headscarf. A few carefully placed eyeliner beauty spots, a lick of garish red lipstick and and I was almost ready to go.
All the running around had left me a little bedraggled and the tights I had on, which were too big anyway, had started to slide down my legs. Turning to look at myself in the mirror I was shocked at my resemblance to Nora Batty, albeit a slightly more fabulous version.
The formidable Nora Batty
I’d enlisted the help of Onda for this fact finding mission and when the knock came to the door I opened it, in full costume might I add, apart from the broken false teeth. My alleged best friend immediately burst into fits of laughing proclaiming that I looked just like that woman off……..”Yeah, I know, shut up and lets go” says I.
The chippy was relatively quiet for a Friday night. Onda went on ahead as the two of us eejits entering at the same time would most certainly have been a giveaway. I could hear her gabbling away to anyone that would listen and when she placed her order for a battered sausage, with a wink at Stuey and a dirty laugh I figured it was high time I showed my face. Putting the false teeth in I sauntered into the shop and asked wee Geraldine for a bag of chips in the best Granny voice I could muster.
Stuey looked quite preoccupied what with his furious frying of Onda’s sausage, when she shouts over, asking him if he’s dumped me, as in me me, not Nora Batty me, for Ethel.
Stuey: Dumped is a bit harsh is it not Onda, I only took her up to Iceland ffs, it’s not like I put a ring on her finger.
Onda: Aye well you did kind of lead her on.
Stuey: How on earth do you work that out.
Onda: All that flirting and extra scoops of chips an all.
Stuey: I give you extra scoops of chips too Onda, only you’re usually too busy gabbing to notice.
Onda: Oh..well anyway. So is this a thing between you and yer woman Ethel then?
Stuey: Could be, she not a bad lass, she’s a right cod (the whole shop laughs at his chip shop humour)
Perhaps that’s why I want to feckin batter her I thinks to myself, laughing at my own.
Onda: May’s not going to be happy.
Stuey: Sure she’s never feckin happy anyway running round there with a face like a well skelped arse.
It was at this point I took such a sharp intake of breath that when I exhaled the broken false teeth went flying across the chip shop and landed in the deep fat fryer with lots of hissing and spitting. It was like someone farting at the seaside, as all the fish came flying out. There was a collective showing of disgust from the whole shop, but I didn’t care as my sights were firmly set on Stuey.
Me: Who the feck do you think you are running round here getting on like you’re the peas knees.
Onda: I think you’ll find that’s the bees knees, May you daft twat.
Me: I think Onda you’ll find it’s not, him and his Harry Ramsden fetish.
Stuey: FFS May you’ve broken my deep fat fryer and why are you dressed like Nora………….
Me: Is that all you care about, ffs Stuey, you’ve broken my heart.
A combination of livid and embarrassed I turned to leave the shop with as much dignity as I could muster. In hind sight I should have been looking where I was going and then I would have seen the group of builders who were just coming through the front door, but as I wasn’t, I ended up colliding with them instead.
Builder: What’s the rush Grandma, you got ants in your pants.
Me: No son, but if you’re not careful you’ll have my boot in your bollocks.
Perhaps sensing I was not in the mood to be trifled with they parted and let me through.
Apparently, according to Onda, I am barred from the chip shop for life. Who cares, Stuey was quite clearly taking the peas anyway!
Suzy is having a blog party, and everyone is welcome. It’s BYOB, only it’s blog not bottle! What better way to spend a Saturday than chilling out, reading and mingling :)
Delphine always wanted to pilot her father’s plane and when he forgot his keys on her tenth birthday, she knew that taking off would be easy. By that she meant taking off out the door towards the airstrip nestled at the back of the house, the feat of making the plane fly she knew was going to be something else entirely.
There was a slight breeze blowing as she passed through the gate and finally caught sight of the yellow plane, her fathers pride and joy. It was bigger than she remembered, perhaps because she had never been this close before, only admiring it from afar, through eyes squinting at the sun.
Delphine, a book fanatic had read books on aviation from cover to cover, at a push she would probably be able to tell you how to dismantle and rebuild the plane before her, quite a feat for someone only ten years old. She knew the purpose and function of every button on the complex dashboard, how to adjust the seats, and also the location of a cleverly hidden parachute should the need a rise. Let’s hope it doesn’t she thought to herself crossing her fingers behind her back.
Raring to go Delphine walked towards the door, or where she thought the door was. A sealed unit flush with the sides, it was quite hard to spot. All to do with the aerodynamics of the plane she thought recalling Chapter 14. To her dismay however, she could not find a handle and as we all know, it’s very hard to open a door without a handle. Mentally scanning the pages in her head she could find no references to help her solve this conundrum, meaning the biggest thing Delphine experienced on her tenth birthday was frustration.
Just at that moment she heard her father call out asking her if she had seen his keys.
‘No Papa, I will help you look’ she shouted sprinting towards the house, hoping to replace the keys before he noticed.
The moral of the story, it’s always good to have brains, but you also need a dash of common sense. On this occasion it would have helped Delphine figure out that the little arc she thought was decoration, was actually the handle, flush and cleverly concealed to keep it aerodynamic too.
The Indecisive Eejit 