============================ RIP Pinky ==============================

======================== 03.02.06 ~ 28.11.06 =========================

Pinky the fish passed quietly away in her sleep on Monday night, the result of an unfortunate accident. Family flowers only, donations to Save the Whale.

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The bloody stupid thing managed to wedge herself in the porthole of the sunken galleon. It look me ages to get her out, I had to get her to go backards and fish don't do backwards. I can’t for the life of me think as to why she went in there in the first place, none the angel fish have ever shown any interest in it before. That ship cost twenty quid - and it's a death trap. The angel fish cost nearly as much.

I managed to dislodge her eventually and she swan off over to the heater. She appeared to be alright and when I checked on her later she did eat some food. We had our company’s AGM on Monday night so I thought I have a quick look to see if she was OK before sitting down.

This time the silly sod had got herself attached to the sucking part of the air filter system. I moved her away and once again she went back to the heater. I can only guess that she didn’t have the strength to release herself, it's not that strong a pull. Fish get stressed - they're not on there own - unfortunately in their case they peg it.

When I came in yesterday I found her belly up. So I had to remove her before Bruce the shark did it for me. It really was circling, quite fascinating to watch. Next came arranging the funeral – it was a quiet affair. There was only room for me in the toilet, for a start. As she sailed away, to go where all good fishes go ( the sewage works), Simon stuck his head around the door and asked me to hurry up, he needed a wee. He’d pay his own respects at the same time. OK, piss taking time was about to begin.

It got worse, Aidan suggested we should have battered it and ordered some chips, Dilys said I should have taken it home for the cat, Craig suggest a minutes silence at dinner time and Sandy said it had cost the company money, how dare it die - try telling that to the accountants, it was going to cause hell with the asset register. She said I should have mounted it and turned it into one of those singing fish.

Heartless sods. It won’t end there you know – I'll get this for days now, every joke going, boxes of tissues and I’d lay money on a certain person turning up tomorrow with a black suit and tie on. It’s already started, Jane asked me on a 'scale' of I to 10, how long will the other one last. She then said she 'fin'-ished taking the Michael for the moment, but she'd get back to me later.

I don't know how I ended up with the fish - other than I've got the word 'sucker' written across my forehead.

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They were introduced to the company by a previous Manager - and for reasons I won't go into yet I wasn't that keen on her. When she eventually left, the fish got forgotten. People would give then food if they passed, but that was it.

One day I wandered into the meeting room and was hit by a stagnant water smell, the filter must have stopped working weeks ago and no one had noticed. I must admit to feeling a bit guilty, yes, they are fish, but it’s not their fault the bitch left them.

So I enlisted (read nagged) Craig’s help and we moved them and the heater to a bucket of clean water. OK, this could have killed them, you’re not meant to do that, but in my mind it couldn’t be any worse than what they’d been living in.

It took us nearly two hours to empty and clean the tank out – God did it stink to high heaven. It then cost the company a small fortune kitting it out again – what’s the use of being a signatory if you can’t write the odd cheque for miscellaneous items?

New filter system, new pump, new heater, real plants instead of the plastic mouldy ones, new stones, a pretty picture for the glass at the back to convince the fish that they now lived in a coral reef and that bloody ship. We then named all of the fish and introduced them to their new home.

After that they became both mine and Craig’s responsibility which also includes feeding them over the Christmas and Easter holidays – no drop-in holiday fish food tablets for our fishes. We’ve lost a few and brought a few more.

Actually I did feel a little sad at her passing, even though I joked with Scally that I was gutted – yes - I’m as bad. Good job it wasn’t Gill, I wouldn’t have been able to hide my feels on that one, he knows me - honestly, he does. When I walk into the meeting room he swims over to the front of the glass. He's just like my cat - there's the woman with the food. And I learnt long ago about black humour - show this lot your feelings and they'll crucified you, in a loving, caring sort of way, of course.

America is back on-line. All well stuffed and slightly fatter by the sound of it. Bet they feel like us at Christmas – and don’t want to see another piece of turkey.

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Himself decided last night that it would be a good idea to go into Stourport to look at the Christmas lights that were turned on at the weekend. I humoured him. OK, he loves Christmas lights and is already planning to start putting ours up on Saturday. It was quite nice to be honest, we parked up and walked through town down towards the river. We brought a portion of chips and a couple of cans of pop and sat on one of the benches in the dark to eat them. Yes, the eccentric English.

Himself decided that we should have a look at the basin, which they’ve been developing. It was no use trying to tell him we wouldn’t see anything – he’s a man. So we walked down past the fair, the river is bursting it’s banks in places and was extremely fast flowing, but he was convinced that we'd get round and be able to come out by the car *rolls eyes*.

He still won’t listen when we came to a sign on a barrier that said: Canal tow path close. Look, he said, the barrier had a path by the side of it - must be this way.

So there we are in the pitch black walking on uneven ground between the river and the canal – I did ask him when we came to the sign that said: Danger Deep Water, whether he’d had enough of me and decided to have the insurance money instead.

He admit defeat evidently, but not before he’d tripped up a step that we couldn't see. So we turned round and went back the way we had come.

OK, not one of my better photo's, but it was very dark. You can just make out the railing going down the middle of the picture, with water either side where the river has overflowed.

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My friend Kristy sent me some photo's this morning. She has a herd of electric reindeer on her lawn. Himself will turn green with envy.

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I had one of those mad moments this morning while writng this, beta appeared to have gone wrong. It wasn't showing the font or font size, infact half the tool bar was missing. I saved my work, logged off and back on again several times, still the same - it was by pure chance I then noticed that I was in the Edit Html screen instead of Compose. One of theses days I learn not to fiddled!

No blog today – Sue has gone away.




OK, I’m joking – I’m back again. What do you do when you want to discussion something to do with the discipline genre? You join a discussion group of similar minded people, who you feel comfortable with, make new friends – and you post a topic for discussion.

Which everyone then ignores – so a few days later, thinking it’s probably just because of Thanksgiving, most of the group are American - you post another one.

And you wait - and you wait - but no one replies to this one either *warning bells going off*.

*Smells under arm* No – it’s not that then.

So out of desperation – you post again, a third time – this one contains an apology for obvious bringing up something that no one else is interested in or wants to comment on. Yes, yet again I have managed to drop a clanger. Talk about Billy No Friends.

I live in hope that when I log-on to my e-mails in a minute - someone – anyone, even the milkman will do – will have posted to me. I’m getting a complex.

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Just in case you were wondering – the electrician is fine. I’m not getting much work done; it’s like an obstacle course just trying to get to the photocopier. I was always rubbish at games at school – so it’s causing me a few problems.

The server fell over twice yesterday, thanks to them – don’t ask, just pull the plug why don’t you. Trouble is, it causes major problems afterwards – computers are such funny bastards. Then it causes me problems, because the world and his dog keep coming into my office moaning that their computer isn’t working. Do I look as if I have a magic wand? Of course, no-one has thought of doing a re-start.

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At least the cat still speaking to me – even if all she says is Feed Me.

Yesterday was a lazy day, well for me at least - eventually. Himself and the two lads decided to go target shooting – basically a competition using air rifles to shoot metal targets shaped like animals, placed around a cold muddy field – did I want to go with them? Could they see that pig flying past? Well, when one of them could hit it I would jump at the chance to go with them. That was a no then, came the reply.

I was quite looking forward to staying in bed, I really don’t get the chance that often. Yes, sucker that I am – I actually believed I could go back to sleep after the alarm clock had gone off.

8.45am The alarm clock goes off and Himself, after several pokes in the ribs, gets up.

8.47am Himself opens Matt’s door and asks (for ask please read - MATT, MATT, at the top of his voice) if he’s still going with them. Matt takes after me; he’s forever changing his mind.

8.52am Himself shouts from the toilet – we’ve run out of toilet paper.
Isn’t that typical? There was none on the roll before he sat down but he couldn’t possibly have gone to the cupboard himself first. No, don’t be silly, I could get up and get it for him.

8.54am Pass toilet roll to himself while holding nose and shouted Matthew again.
8.56am Climbed back into bed.

8.58am Got out of bed to answer door – Stephen had arrived. He couldn’t get in because Himself’s keys are in the door.

9.00am Climbed back into bed

9.05am Himself comes into bedroom and bangs wardrobe doors and drawers - very loudly, then gets dressed. Himself shouts out to Matthew again to get up.

9.12am Got out of bed to go to the toilet – bladder is starting to hurt. Holds nose.

9.16am Shouts to Matthew as I passed, saying I am NOT calling him again. Got back into bed

9.25am Steve shouts up to say he’s let the ducks out. I thank him and pull the covers over my head.

9.27am Matthew comes into room – where are the thick green socks? Duh…in the drawer.

9.30am Matthew comes back into room – Where are his shooting trousers? Why me? In the wardrobe - he hung than up himself when he tided up.

9.31am Himself wants to know if I want a piece of toast and a cup of tea? Please, do not start that one again.

9.34am Steve shout’s upstairs that he’s going to get the papers – where’s the paper money? On the sideboard!

9.47am Steve shouts upstairs to say he’s now got the papers – Yes, thank you.

9.52am All three men traipse outside – you can clearly hear them discussing where wellies, gloves and coats are, who’s wearing what, and had they got enough pellets.

9.58am All three men shout goodbye and Matthew slams front door shut. You then hear Himself moaning that one day he’s going to break that door.
Listen to car drive away. All is quiet.

10.00am Cat jumps on bed and demands to be fed.

10.01am Got up and fed cat.

10.12am Takes a glass of milk and a couple of pieces of toast back to bed – What? Well I quite fancied a piece of toast at that point.


To be honest I only planned to lie down for half an hour after that, just a cat nap, but somewhere along the line I fell asleep. I woke up at 1.15pm and struggled to get up. That’s the trouble with going back to sleep – you feel sluggish for the rest of the day. I also had a headache that refused to go away and stayed with me until I woke up this morning.

I’ve now got to go to work and listen to Bob the builder and his mate, Eric the Electrician making enough noise to raise the dead.

The world is good.

Here I sit with my diet Pepsi and my salt and vinegar crisp & cheese baguette. Yes, I know I said earlier this week that after seeing the photos I wasn’t going to touch crisps again – but guess what? I’ve changed my mind - I've a short memory spam. When we were kids we used to add vinegar to plain / ready salted crisp to turn them into soggy mess that tasted great.

So what shall I talk about today – my good mood? That one’s simple – there not an electrican in sight. It’s so quiet that I can hear the birds singing outside. No one here but me – so I can carry on with finishing my Cam & Josh story without interputions. My Dad's asleep in his chair in his granddad flat – Himself is over Tracy’s helping Richard put up plaster board and Matt’s outside ‘playing’ with his Dad’s tool. No, I haven’t got a bloody clue what he’s up to, and it will probably end in an argument later on, but I don’t care, really I don’t.

I’ve answered some e-mails, *waves to Kristy, Lulu and Twicet*, had a good hours preving as Scally would say, got further than ever before on Astropop and am now about to let the muse flow. Yes, life feels good – it doesn’t take a lot anymore to make me feel happy, I’ve learnt to appreciate what I’ve got.

P.S. Please remember I have a habit of changing my mind – so don’t blame me if I start moaning again in my next post. I might, I might not – who knows *laughs*

I know how Quasimodo felt now, never mind the bells, it’s the fecking drills, hammers and saws that are getting to me. The electricians are still at it, putting trunking in ready for the re-wiring. According to Sandy, they could be here for another two weeks yet.

Two weeks, I don’t know if I can last two days, it really is driving me mad – and putting me in a foul mood to boot. It’s effecting other staff as well, everyone picking and poking at each other. Manager’s aren’t allowed to do that – they have to rise above it. Yet another good reason not to be a Manager, the con’s seen to out number the pro’s in my book.

I’ve had the receptionist in floods of tears yesterday because a right gobby cow had a go at her over the stationery cupboard and the lack A4 files in it, we’d run out of punched pockets too. So, she demanded, why hadn’t they been re-ordered, she needed to take her responsibilites more seriously and spend less time talking to other staff.

Probably not the best day to get on her high horse with me, if there is ever a good day that is. I don’t think she’ll do it again. No, I didn’t bite her head off – I only do that with himself (and that's allowed, along with Himself taking up nearly all the bed and the best part of the duvet). I pulled the procedure file out and suggested that before berating my staff in the future, she read the process for ordering stationery. Which very clearly states it's the responsible of each department to monitor their requirement, not the receptionist – she just rings the order through after it has been cleared with the Team Leader. She now clearly understands that if she has a problem with a member of my staff she speaks to me - not them.

Of course the problem is that the old cow in question is from a generation that expects the lower down mortals to hold them in awe, do their bidding etc. I don’t think so – I treat staff with respect, from the Cleaner to the General Manager. I expect other to as well and may God have mercy on their souls if they're bitchy to my staff and I get to hear of it. Here endth the first lesson.

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Mooching on the internet I found these presents suitable for the person who sends waaay to much time on their computer - that's probably most of you lot then. A cup warmer, so your drink doesn’t get cold as you surf for kinky stories, a vacuum cleaner to hoover those chocolate biscuit crumbs off your keyboard. And of course, the dedicated surfer would need this handy little massager, for those aching shoulders. It's certainly made me think of someone.

Personally I quite fancy the USB Christmas tree – to light up my life *laughs*, but if I had to choose just one thing, it would have to be the rocket launcher for when someone pisses me off at work. I'd get those fecking electricians for a start.

Himself has already got this touch – he affectionately call’s it his ‘wanker’ touch.

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They published the top 10 white lies that adults tell their children yesterday:

1. Father Christmas
2. The Tooth Fairy
3. Crusts make your hair curl
4. Carrots make you see in the dark
5. If the wind changes, your face will stay like that
6. Easter Bunny
7. Babies are found under gooseberry bushes (or similar)
8. If you eat apple pips, they'll grow in your tummy
9. Picking your nose causes your head to cave in/your brain to fall out/your nose to fall off
10. Lying does something unpleasant to your tongue (spots, ulcers, it will drop off)

The other ones I could remember were ~

*If you swallow chewing gum – it’s sticks your insides together
*If the Ice Cream man plays his tune he’s run out of ice cream (they mentioned that one as well)
*Sprouts are fairy cabbages.
*If you tread on the cracks in the pavement the bears will get you.
*Father Christmas won't come if you're not a sleep - I can still remember the year I saw my mum put my stocking at the end of the bed - I was gutted, Christmas was never quite the same after that.

I am so pissed off, we’ve got electricians in at work and the sound of drilling is constant. It’s vibrating the floor, the walls and bouncing off the ceiling. I keep finding myself subconsciously gritting my teeth. You can’t think straight or hear what someone on the phone is saying. And they say woman can talk – these two constantly shout down the corridor at each other. All that drilling must have made them deaf. One of them stuck his head round my door a few minutes ago and said: ‘Any chance of a cuppa, love.”

To which I replied “Yes, help yourself, the kitchen’s back there.”

I’m not in the mood to be the hostess with the mostest – so they can just bugger off and leave me in peace.

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Dilys had me in absolute stitches yesterday at work telling me about her Saturday night. She and her husband had joined a wine tasting group - The Wine Island Tasters Society who had arranged a wine tasting and supper night – they knew the man who ran the group, but he wouldn’t be there – not a problem they’d soon make friends.

She knew it was in Wolverly so they pulled up out side the village hall and followed a couple in. When they got to the door they were asked for their tickets. She hadn’t been sent any tickets – but she explained to the man on the door that she had posted the cheque for £12.00 last Tuesday to a gentleman called John.

The man turns around and shouts over to John – who then comes over. Where do you live? He asks. Kidderminster, said Dilys. John thinks for a few moments – he couldn’t remember sending any tickets to Kidderminster. Never mind, come on in and they’ll sort it out later.

So in they went, right past the supper table – which looked very appetizing and sat down. Dilys’ husband starts chatting to the man to the side of him, explaining that they have only just joined, it’s their first time and don’t know anyone yet.

Five minutes later George notices people standing around a table – must be where the wine is – off he goes and comes back with a glass of wine and a soft drink. He’s had to pay for them, he tells Dilys, he thought the wine was in with the price of the ticket. Well, maybe they’ve changed their minds – look they got a live band on stage – they must have decided on entertainment instead, Dilys replies.

Nearly half an hour had passed, the room was filling up and the little clues are starting to drop into place – Dilys say’s to George, I think we might be in the worry place, go and asked the man on the door if this is the wine tasting evening. I’m not going, say’s George (Typical man – quick enough to the bar, but won’t ask directions). So Dilys goes herself, only to find that it’s not the wine tasters - they’re over in the church hall tonight – but a Barn Dance. Just like it says on the poster on the wall behind him, the man points out – with the words Sold Out across the front – the very one she read on the way in, which she’d totally ignored.

Dilys and George make a hasty escape and make their way to the Church Hall, where they ask if this is the group that does the wine tasting. That’s right, say’s the man – We’re the TWITS. Good, says Dilys, because you’ve got to more!

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I am now extremely worried, I came home from work to discovery that Matthew had cleaned his room – really cleaned his room. There is nothing on the floor, under the bed, on the top of the wardrobes or even stuffed in the bottom of the wardrobes. All this clothes have been put away or are downstairs in the washing machine – which he’s also turned on. He’s even dusted and hoovered.

I’m racking my brains as to what he’s done wrong – it must be really bad. Or even worse, maybe he’s thinking of inviting a girl back home when we’re not there. God, who wants to be mother to a teenager with rampant hormones!

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Nice rainbow here this morning - I was in an altogether happier mood at that point.

I have left my blog to later deliberately this morning – I’m trying to see the funny side of things, and still failing miserably. Himself is off work today, he’s attending a funeral (I always think that’s a weird word, ‘fun’ doesn’t seem quite right, unless you think about what can happen at the wake afterwards when the drink's flowing).

Anyway, I’m not really a morning person – and mornings are always a rush - so much to do, so little time. Himself was being a right pain in the arse – where was this, where was that – I’m not his bloody mother for God’s sake – he should have sorted things out last night, instead of leaving everything to this morning. Did I want toast? Why not? Did I want a cup of tea? He fecking well knows I don’t drink tea very often – why on earth would I want a cup this morning?

So when he asked me if I would iron his shirt just as I was about to leave - I may have gone off on one. OK, so I threw a right Freddie, which he didn’t appreciate – he seem to think I had been a right mouthy bitch all morning – and didn’t think my language was at all called for. I soon put him right on that one, I can tell you - which was quickly followed by him putting me right. Right across the arm of the sofa. He was under the impression that I could have made my point without ripping his head off and that I’m articulate enough to make my point without resorting to that kind of language. Personally I felt I expressed my feeling extremely fluently – I hardly paused for a breath – and it was very descriptive.

I left the house in a dignified manner – totally not speaking to him and feeling very hard done by.

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I experienced a bit of a nostalgic moment yesterday when collecting the newspapers - they still sell zip firelighters, a lady in front of me had decided to light a coal fire as it was getting cold. Both my nan and my mum used to use them.

We didn’t have central heating when I was a child – and I don’t consider 41 to be over the hill, thank you very much – we just had a coal fire in the living room and kitchen. By pulling a sliding plate up inside the chimney the kitchen fire also heated the hot water. If the tank got too hot, it used to make a high pitched singing sound and you had to run off some water. In the summer the water was heated by an electric emersion heater.

I woke every morning in winter to the sound of my mum scrapping out the ashes, which were put into a tin bucket and then placed outside to cool down, they were later tipped onto the garden as they were good for the plants. She used to get up early to make sure the room was warm for when I got up, I always got dressed downstairs – the bedrooms were freezing. We all used to wash in the morning in the kitchen sink, the bathroom had ice inside the window and the pipes used to freeze in the winter. I can remember my dad using a hair dryer to try to defrost them before they burst. We used to leave the tap running slightly to try to stop them freezing up.

When I went to bed at night I looked like Scot of the Antarctic, not only did I wear pyjamas, but also a cardigan and a pair of bed socks. We didn’t have duvet’s either, but sheets, blankets & eiderdowns – must be where the saying as snug as a bug in a rug comes from. We put a hot water bottle in bed half an hour before bed time - no electric blankets for us. Mind you part of that was because I was terrified that they'd catch fire. This is where I admit to setting upstairs alight - it was an accident - so I don't think I could be classed as an arsonist.

I've just remembered I had a night light with Top Cat stood by a TV. Just think if I still had it - it would probably be worth a fortune now.

It didn’t get any better when I got married – the only form of heating in the first flat we lived in was a coal fire in the living room – which also heated the water. We had metal window frames too, the whole place suffered from condensation and mildrew, we had mould growing on the bathroom walls. I just used to scrub it off – it was all very normal back then, now a days the flat would have been condemned!

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I read in the news yesterday that the trading standards have written to The Welsh Dragon Sausage Company about it’s labelling, which fails to state the words – Does not contain dragon meat. What!*?

They also wrote saying ‘It is recommended that you include the type of meat eg: pork/beef in the name of the food." It’s the company name for God’s sake, I don’t think for one minute people would think it contained actual dragon.

Just think, someone is being paid good money to write those letters and I bet they’ve got their own pencil sharper too, which they don’t let anyone else use.

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Updates in case you haven’t noticed – and before you say anything, yes I do work, I’m allowed a lunch break – are Hic Draconis (Cobweb & Gnome) & Lady Jodie. Gillibran Brown has added another chapter too. Everyone's putting me to shame.


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And last, but not least ~

I WON I WON I WON

Scally sent an e-mail without a joke on - Yes, *punches air* - so by default, although she tried to argue the point, we are now even – one all. It's all down to the decider!

I have fallen out with the cat – I do not appreciate having to get up at 3am to let her in because she’s scratching at the PVC of the window, which was too bloody annoying to ignore. I appreciated it even less when after getting up to let her in, five minutes later I could hear her regurgitating half a mouse on the hall carpet. If killing them isn’t bad enough, why the hell she feels she has to eat them is beyond me – she gets tins of tuna for God’s sake, she’s hardly hard done by.

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We got the proof’s back yesterday from the photos that were taken for the website at work - I should have taken a leaf out of Craig’s book and refused to have anything to do with them. I’m never going to touch another McDonalds, or a chocolate biscuit or a packet of crisps or, or, or, anything else that shatters my illustration that I just need to lose a little bit of weight. I also need to get a colour for my hair, which according to everyone else is fine, but I can see those odd grey hairs just like Medusa’s snakes - taunting me. You’d have thought that as the photos cost an arm and a leg, he would have been able to work a miracle and give the impression of super models – yeah, you're right, walking on water would have been easier.

On a plus side, ever the optimist, the photographer got some great shots of the fish – I’m trying to convince Sandy that they should be put on the website instead of me. You can see the difference that a thousand pounds plus worth of camera makes!

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The kids had a visit from Big Joe Egan yesterday – a truly astounding man, who can keep a room full of 17 – 19 year olds enthralled with tales of his life and boxing. He’s offered his support on many occasions, always free of charge, and the kids always enjoy his company. His book makes interesting reading – he is no saint, but has amazing knack of engaging people – not just with his fists - and rising above what life has thrown at him. He’s actually very quietly spoken and always polite, his Irish accent still quite pronounced. When he starts to talks his face becomes animated and the audience are just drawn in – and before you know it two hours have passed.

I noticed on Saturday night that while exploring - no, not fiddling - the new beta blogger site I'd managed to turn off the box for comments. I sure that this wouldn't have been missed by anyone else, but I'm an optimist by nature and live in hope!

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I had a great day yesterday – I don’t get to spend so much 1-1 time with Tracy lately. She’s started a new job as a carer, so is often out in the evenings and at weekends and we both suffer by doing the weekly shop with our husbands instead. Yesterday was a catch-up day – we talked each other to death.

We didn’t get lost this time either – we did have a slight detour on the way when instead of turning off at Bromsgrove we headed on auto-pilot towards Merry Hill. After travelling about five miles in the wrong direction, half way through the conversation, Tracy queried where we were going – oops!

It went pretty much as described in Saturday’s blog, other than the fact we brought cookies to eat instead. They looked delicious – chocolate triple fudge – very thick, with lumps of white and milk chocolate pieces. We both look a few bites while looking at the stalls. After a minute Tracy turned to me and said, ‘we’ve done it again haven’t we?’. We most certainly had – they were vile. Other than the Chocolate pieces they didn’t taste very chocolaty and the biscuit itself was like eating powder – it was so dry. Yurk!

I found a couple of wooden signs that I liked – ‘Nobody notices what I do till I don’t do it’ and ‘The house was cleaned yesterday, sorry you missed it. My favourite had to be this one:

We also came across these dolls, the photo's aren't brilliant as they're off my mobile, but I'm pretty sure the male doll with his elephant pouch has been to Ann Summers

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It’s obviously getting close to pay day for eldest son and future daughter-in-law as they both turned up at tea time on Sunday and left later that evening with a good portion of the contents of the freezer and cupboards.

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I’ve not had chance to speak to Scally much this weekend, but I’m still one joke up on her, so by my reckoning I winning at the moment!

Friday turned out to be a busy day – I had to work for a start. We had a Leadership & Management Self Assessment meeting that took up the best part of the morning, so the jokes with Scally were very few and far between. I would like to point out that I’ve still not given in – this time I’m going to win – Yes I am!



And don’t let it be said I don’t admit to my mistakes. Not only am I putting my hand up, but I’m waving it about as well. Because Friday was also the day Aidan and I looked at the cock-up I’d made with the wages in September. There’s one thing you can rely on with me – if I’m going to fuck something up, I don’t do it by halves. It took the pair of us nearly two hours to sort it out. OK, Aidan did need to go outside for a cigar on a couple of occasion and at one stage had to be talked off the fire escape – but we sorted it in the end.



Friday night was great, we had a lovely meal and Stephen enjoyed being the centre of attention, as well as spoilt rotten. Himself had a fright when his meal turned up – he’d ordered ribs. He couldn’t decide which animal they had come from – someone suggested a whale.



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Most of today was spent cleaning – which I’m sure you will have already worked out isn’t top of my agenda, but it had got to the stage that I needed to do something about the dust on the TV – we couldn’t see the picture for a start.



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I also made a Chili con Carne - guess what - I don’t like cooking either. Usually, as I’m the only one that likes it, I buy a jar or frozen one. I’ve made one before, but it was a bit too runny and bland. This one was much better; it was the right consistency, smelt good and looked like a chili should. I reckon that if I don’t put so much chili powder in next time I’ll be able to eat it.



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Tomorrow Tracy and I are off the NEC for the Festive Gift Fare – It’s something we’ve gone to together for the last four year. I’m pretty sure I can tell you now what will happen.



We’ll arrive at about 10.00am – after setting out at 8.00am and getting lost. No, even after four years, I still go the wrong way. We’ll walk around for about two and a half hours, buying one or two items, if we’re lucky - one year we brought nothing at all. Half way around we’ll purchase some sort of Italian bread roll for me and a Chelsea bun sort of thing for Tracy. We’ll eat a few bites of them – decide they’re too dry and say we’ll eat them later at home. They’ll then get put in our bags and thrown away – yes, some people never learn, but they always look delicious. We’ll also walk past the stand selling different cheeses about five times – and each time we walk past we’ll sample something. About 12ish we’ll sit by the Christmas tree and eat our packed lunch and then finish looking around, decide that we’ve had enough and that it would be better to go to Merry Hill instead.



My unique sense of direction will then kick in and instead of the 30 miles it should be to get there – I’ll take a short cut, via Shirley last year – well, surely all of Birmingham leads to Merry Hill, doesn’t it? No it doesn’t – last year we rang himself from the mobile and he had to talk us back to Merry Hill. He couldn’t understand why we were so far away and he knows me! Anyway 45 miles later we’ll get to Merry Hill and then spend a small fortune.There is absolutely no point in being different if you don’t show it.

It’s my son’s 20th Birthday today – God I feel old. At work yesterday Carol pointed out that I’m still young enough to have another child – I told her to sod off - I don’t need to listen to that sort of language.

Where has the time gone – it doesn’t seen that long ago that I was in labour, begging for pain killing injections and sniffing on the gas and air like some crazy druggie. It was bloody good stuff that pethidine, it knocked me out – I slept between contractions. The only problem was it was a bit too good – when it came to the time to push I didn’t get the urge – they had to try to keep me awake and scream at me to bear down. We got there in the end – and I can still remember Himself’s face when he held his son for the first time.

When Steve started to crawl, we used to play a chasing game. We lived in a top floor flat at the time; it had a long living room with a door at each end into the hall. I used to get on my hands and knees and we’d hide from each other. I use to creep up behind him and shout 'boo' – he’d scream and laugh and then take off through the door and into the hall. I’d turn around and meet him coming the other way. I never though about it at the time, but the people below must have though a herd of elephants were about to come through the ceiling.

When he was about ten months old he couldn’t seem to shake off a cold – he’d been quite a big baby, but he lost all his weight. Antibiotics didn’t seem to work and he became more lethargic – eventually the doctor admitted him to hospital and he was put in an oxygen tent. He just lay there, not moving. One of the worse hour's of my life was sat waiting for the specialist to tell me whether he had pneumonia. Thank God he didn’t and a day before Christmas he was allowed home. I went into town and brought him a blue teddy that played Christmas carols when you pressed it paw – he still has it.

I remember taking him to playgroup for his first visit and them giving me a cup of coffee. I hate coffee, but I was too polite to say anything. I thought - how bad can a cup be if you take big gulps – it was ghastly, how I didn’t throw up beats me. I can’t even stand the smell of coffee now. I still have the plastic Ferrero Rocher container that he filled to the brim with coloured pasta and gave to me as a present.

I cried the first day he went to school. All the other mums were trying to stop their children crying while mine was telling me not to; he’d be home again soon. I also remember worrying about whether he’d be able to open his flask for a drink at dinner time as it was new and very stiff. I worried about him asking to go to the loo, missing the school bus home even though it only picked up from that school to bring the kids up to the top part of the village and a thousand and one other things – he wasn’t at all worried, he loved school.

When he was eight he needed to have his tonsils out – Himself and I were allowed to go down to theatre with him to say goodbye. As they put him to sleep he waved to me and saidI love you mummy – I cried rivers over that one. I stayed with him, sleeping in a chair that night and first thing the next morning he wanted to ring his Nan. The nurse showed us where the pay phone was and he happily talked to Nanny for a few minutes, while the nurse looked on. He them, without warning, through up – all over her shoes. The poor woman, she had to take them off and walk down the ward bare footed.

I can remember him talking Matthew to the rope swing in the field, even though they weren’t allowed. Matthew fell off and broke his arm – they came up with the excuse that he’d fallen off his bike. No, I didn’t fall for it - I’m not that stupid – his bike was in the shed for a start.

He had to have his appendix out while we were on Holiday in Ibiza – but that's another story along with the story of his engagement. One of the most special things he has ever asked me to do was to go with him to choose the ring – he wanted to do everything right and get down on one knee to ask Lucy to marry him. Both of those story will have to wait for another day.

Tomorrow night I’m picking them up – it’s his birthday, he can’t drive. We're all meeting up with Lucy’s Family and along with our family and friends are going out for a meal. He’s already asked about a birthday cake, with candles – so I’ve arranged that. Hopefully it will add some more good memories to the ones we already have.

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OK, I think I’ve sorted out the little teething trouble Scally was having with my blog – it wasn’t her fault, or at least she like to think so.

*looks around* I found it’s just easier to agree with her – saves on the earache. She's quite happy if she think's she's right, even if we know differently *wink*.

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Battle of the Jokes

Day two see’s casualties on both sides – but no pain, no gain.

Scally was a hare’s breath away from winning with this one –

A woman driving down the same highway saw the man crying on the side of the road and pulled over. She stepped out of her car and asked the man what was wrong.

"I feel terrible," he explained, "I accidentally hit the Easter Bunny and killed it. There may not be an Easter because of me. What should I do?"

The woman told the man not to worry. She knew exactly what to do. She went to her car trunk, and pulled out a spray can. She walked over to the limp, dead Bunny, and sprayed the entire contents of the can onto the little furry animal.

Miraculously the Easter Bunny came to back life, jumped up, picked up the spilled eggs and candy, waved its paw at the two humans and hopped on down the road.

50 yards away the Easter Bunny stopped, turned around, waved and hopped on down the road another 50 yards, turned, waved, hopped another 50 yards and waved again!

The man was astonished. He said to the woman, "What in heaven's name is in your spray can? What was it that you sprayed on the Easter Bunny?"

The woman turned the can around so that the man could read the label. It said:

"Hair spray. Restores life to dead hair. Adds permanent wave."

But never fear, I’ll not duck from her attack –

A duck walks into a pub and orders a pint of lager and a ham sandwich. The landlord looks at him and says, "But you're a duck"!

"I see you're eyes are working" replies the duck.

"And you talk!" exclaims the landlord.

"I see you're ears are working" says the duck, "now can I have my beer and my sandwich please?"

"Certainly," says the landlord, " sorry about that, it's just we don't get many talking ducks in this pub. What are you doing round this way?"

"I'm working on the building site across the road" explains the duck.

So the duck drinks his beer, eats his sandwich and leaves.

This continues for about 2 weeks. Then one day the circus comes to town.

The ring leader of the circus comes into the pub and the landlord says to him: "You're with the circus aren't you? I know this duck that would be just brilliant in your circus, he talks, drinks beer and everything!"

"Sounds marvellous" says the ringleader, "get him to give me a call, he could earn thousands."

So the next day, the duck comes into the pub. The landlord says,"Hey Mr Duck I reckon I can line you up with a top job. Paying really good money!"

"Yeah?" says the duck, "Sounds great, where is it?"

"At the circus" says the landlord.

"The circus?" the duck enquires.

"That's right" replies the landlord.

"The circus? That place with the big tent? With all the animals? With the big canvas roof with the hole in the middle?"

"That's right!" says the landlord

The duck looks confused. "What the hell do they want with a plasterer?"

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We received this certificate through the post yesterday – it doesn’t seem to matter how much you paid for the course, the certificates are always crap.

and with that in mind – and Aidan not in until the afternoon, there seem to be only one place to hang it.

test blog

We've all had our pictures taken yesterday at work, ready for the new company website. It was just like when we were kids waiting for the school photographer. There was a fair few prima donna’s about - Craig insisting he wasn't going to be on any photo's, and walking off in a strop. There was also a queue outside the loo with people holding make-up bags and combs.

I personally feel my best side is behind the camera – I hate having my picture taken and to make it even worse, I had to be on the Senior Management Team and the Finance & Admin one.

It was all taken very seriously, well by certain people anyway. The first shot was around the table as if we were in a meeting. The second shot was taken with the photographer on the stairs looking down on us as we stood in a semi circle in reception - feeling like idiots. That should be an interesting one, especially with the clients faces peering through the window behind us. The plus side of that one, for me at least, is with 3 inch heels on I didn’t look the shortest. Hooray!

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Scally still seems to be having a few problems linking to my blog – now it could be because I’ve been messing about again – I’ve moved over to Beta Blogger and have been playing with the templates for a start . Now if I could be sure that she wasn't reading this - I'd lay the blame at her door, but as I can't and don't want an ear brashing - beta's can be very tetchy, if you push your luck - I'm going to say it must have been something I've done and the link isn't working quite right.
She did get there evidentially and I can only think her page link was before I starting fiddling on Monday. No one else has said anything – but they wouldn’t would they – no one else leaves me any comments! OK, OK, nearly no one. *pout*

Shall I tell you about another time I messed - one of many I'm afraid. Now I could tell you about the wardrobes, but that would spoil Montgomery’s story – which he hasn’t yet posted, surprise, surprise. No, I’ll tell you about the time Tracy and I went into Sainsbury’s.

We were walking up and down the isles when all of a sudden, while looking at the crisps, we were hit by this most offensive smell – you see, you know what coming don’t you – Yes, she’d done it again. No one can drop one like Tracy – unfortunately there was another lady shopping in that isle. She started to cough and sputter and had to put a hanky to her nose. We both shot around the corner and burst out laughing - yes, I'm sure we will grow up one day. Walking down the isle a little further I noticed a basket of stress relieving foam balls, some sort of special offer. 'Look at this,' I said, 'that poor woman could do with one of these.'

As I picked the ball off the top of the pile to pass over to Tracy, the rest, seeing their chance for freedom made a run for it – bloody everywhere they went, all across the isle and under the shelving.

Now I would have left them and followed Tracy, who funnily enough had shot back around the other side of the isle again - but could still be heard laughing her head off - if it wasn’t for the fact a shop assistant had been stacking shelves right by the side of me.

I turned bight red – you could have cooked an egg – apologised and helped pick them up. When after about five minutes we had completed the task and I was just about to walk away, the stop assistance held the last one out to me. 'There you go, you’ve forgot to put one in your trolley,' she said. I thanked her again and walked away. I located Tracy, who was nearly wetting herself - she laughed even more when I hide the foam ball in with the packets of crisps on the shelf. Well, I couldn't very well tell the shop assistant I didn't want one, now could I?

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This is the Duck Scally has put up against my Octopus - it needs no comments from me. Anyway she’s quackers if she thinks she’s going to win this time – even as I write this, I’m one joke up on her.

A Duck walks into a pub and says to the barman: "Got any bread?"

Barman says: "No."

Duck says: "Got any bread?"

Barman says: " No."

Duck says: "Got any bread?"

Barman says: "No, we have no bread."

Duck says: "Got any bread?"

Barman says: "No, we haven't got any fricking bread."

Duck says: "Got any bread?"

Barman says: "No, are you deaf, we haven't got any fricking bread,ask me again and I'll nail your fricking beak to the bar you irritating bastard bird!"

Duck says: "Got any nails?"

Barman says: "No."

Duck says: "Got any bread?"


OK, I hate to admit it, but I laughed. If you knew what ducks were like - the greedy little sods - you'd have laughed too.

Ozzy and George - which considering it was taken with the flash on in the dark, isn't too bad a picture.

Oh, and Nicole - I still beat you to bed by nearly two hours! Please feel free to learn from my experience. ;-)

With regards to Monday's blog, I've had three people ask now if I'm the Brownie sat in front with the folded arms - NO, I'm not....I don't know where you got the impression that I have an attitude from!

Keep guessing.

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*Warning ~ Moaning Ahead.*

OK, I think I’ve worked out why Himself has a problem with me being on the computer late at night - just lately he’s been coming up to bed, I’ve said I’ll be about 5 more minutes, and he’s then drops off to sleep. Yhey, unlimited access!

Of course the down side to it was that after a run of late nights, I couldn’t get up yesterday morning - I didn’t get to work until turned 9. Even then I could have quite happily curled up under the desk and gone back to sleep. Of course it didn’t help matters that nearly everyone I spoke to yesterday asked if I was alright – I looked worn out, was I feeling OK?

Yes, I may have looked bloody awful but I didn’t need the fact rammed down my throat – I was quite happy to live under the illusion that I looked the ever professional, efficient, business woman.

The day didn’t get any better, just lately a couple of staff that have been booked onto courses – have then ‘forgotten’ about them and we’ve lost the money. I’ve taken to returning copies of the booking forms they've given me with the words - Put this date in your diary - written across the top.

One of the Team Managers came in and said I hadn’t let a member of staff from our Dudley office know about the four day first aid course he was booked on for next week. He now couldn’t attend and it was already paid for.

I'm sorry but I did let him know, I even gave him a copy of the letter we received from the training organisation confirming the time, date and venue.

The discussion went on for a while longer until I pointed out that if the said person didn’t know about the course – how come he’d rung the Team Manager to say he couldn't make it because he didn’t know – there’s logic there somewhere – but I was too tired and annoyed to care. I was then told by my Manager, who walked in half way through the conversation, that I should have informed the Team Manager of the training that was booked for his staff. Now hang on a minute, who authorised the training to start with!

I’m more than willing to take the rap for my own mistakes, I’ll even admit to making them – but I don’t see why I should take the fall out for other people’s incompetence. What else do they expect me to do to - drive them to the bloody course, maybe they'd like me to make them a packed lunch as well. I don't have the time to produce countless pieces of papers telling very Tom, Dick and flipping Harry about training - all that's bloody needed is for the person to put it in their diary to start with - it's hardly rocket science.

Anyway - the outcome was I spent nearly half an hour trying to cancel and rearrange for another day, without loosing the company any more money – while slowly simmering away to myself.

By the time I got home I was in a foul mood, dog tired and well pissed off – I think that about sums it up. Himself made the mistake of complaining about not being able to find his screwdriver set – he’d left it on the side in the kitchen.

Oooh dear, red rag to a bull – I was (insert swear word) fed up with coming home to a tip because nobody sodding else ever (insert another swear word) did anything. If he’d have put the (yet another swear word) thing away to start with he’d know where the (guess what? Yes, another swear word) thing was now!

I then rummaged around amongst the clutter, located the screwdrivers and slammed them down on the work surface in front of him. I followed this act with a wonderfully executed door slam and a good old fashion stomp upstairs.

You see this is where Himself comes into his own – he didn’t follow me. He knows when I need time to come off the boil. Ten minutes later, judging that I would have cooled off enough, he came upstairs. Had I quite finished with the tantrum? He asked. I didn’t feel that justified an answer, so choose to ignore it and carried on sulking into the pillow. Yes I do sulk occasionally - I like to think of it as reviewing my options through.

He lay down next to me and pulled me in for a hug – I resisted for a moment and then gave in. Then he started. 'See what happens when you stay up half the night on the computer? What time did you get to bed anyway?' He asked. I mumbled about 1-ish in reply – I’m hardly likely to admit it was a few minutes off 2am, now am I? I pointed out that I'd lost it over the mess in the kitchen and a shite day at work and not the fact I'd had a run of late nights.

Well he said, from now on I could come to bed at the same time as him, I was always in a right shitty mood when tired – and if I ever threw fit like that again he'd make sure I wouldn’t want to sit down on the computer chair – was that clear?

Huh...for the time being maybe. But I know when not to argue - and anyway I didn't have the energy. I'll just recoop and bide my time - give him a couple of weeks and he'll forget he said it.

++++


To finish on a happier note - here's the text joke Tracy sent me. I should have saved it for my rematch with Scally - but I figure it will put the fear of God into her when she see's what she's up against - a few of these and she'll soon be waving a white flag.

Anyone with a sensitive nature - stop reading now.


An Octopus walks into a bar and say’s “I can play ANY musical instrument you like.”

An Englishman passes him a guitar, which he then plays better than Hendix.

An Irishman gives shows him where the piano is. He plays this better than Elton John.

Then a Scotsman throws him a set of bagpipes.

The octopus fumbles about for a few minutes, and the Scotsman say’s:

“What’s wrong – can ye no play it?”


The Octopus replies:

“Play it? – I’m gonna fuck her brains out once I get these pyjamas off!”

Bloody, Flaming Kids *bounces up and down on the spot*.

One of them has downloaded music on to MY computer and infected it with a worm. It threw a wobbly while I was posting on LS - I threw an even bigger wobbly when I found out why. It took me over ten mintues to get rid of the bloody thing! Firewalls and Anti-virus software only work if they are turned on - and someone has been tampering with the settings.

I have my flash light fully charged and ready for the interrogation.

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While Himself was up in the attic last night – sorting out his Christmas lights for the beginning of December – oh God- panic - it will soon be Christmas, and I haven't brought a single present yet. He came across one of Matthew’s old toys. Matty used to love Jim Henson’s Dinosaurs – especially the baby, with his catch phase of: ‘not the momma.’

So with this in mind, one Christmas, just before he was five, I brought him the big soft toy version of Baby Sinclair. It had a pull cord in the back of it’s head that when extended allowed it to utter one of it’s famous phases, such as ‘I’m the baby’, ‘gotta love me’.

Matt was over joyed when he opened his present – he walked round hugging it for ages, it was nearly as big as him. We showed him how to make his toy talk – but he was more interested in showing Baby Sinclair his other presents.

After a lovely day he got ready for bed and sat, with Baby, on the sofa while I read both of them a story – yes what a lovely scene – he even got Baby to talk to me.

He pulled the string and Baby said: ‘I’m Hungry feed my mouth.’ Matt gets up and shoves a biscuit in Baby’s mouth – ahhh…isn’t that sweet.

Matt pulls the string again, this time baby has a personality change, from Dr Jekyll to Mr Hyde, and utters: ‘I’m gonna bite you now.’ Matthew lets out a scream, throws the toy away from him and runs out of the room shouting, he's going to bite me, he's going to bite me.

Both Steve, Himself and I were in absolute stitches. Matthew in the mean time, had run to his bedroom and was cowering under the covers of his bed. Yes…we’re terrible parent, I know . He wouldn’t go near the thing for days after that, no matter what we said – I had to take it over to Nanny’s house that night before he’d go to sleep, and even then he only dropped off after he got into bed with Stephen.

He got over it eventually, but he never really played with it much after that, it just got kicked around the floor - hence it's now fairly dirty and talks at high speed.

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OK, just a couple of photo’s from Sunday, that’s all I’ve got time for today.

Goosey, Goosey Gander!

Malvern Hills

It’s blowing a gale here this morning; the trees are being stripped of their livery. The fallen leaves scurrying down the road, flirtatiously intertwining with each other.....you see what happens when I start writing again? I’ve now got a touch of descriptivitus
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I woke up Saturday morning about 10ish – did the shopping, sat in the car for the two minutes silence to remember Armistice Day and then drove home. After which, I went back to bed, I was knacked – I've come to the conclusion I need my sleep, I become cantankerous without it.

I am please to inform those interested that I have now made headway into the next part of James and Jay and could be posting soonish, well I did send Scally a bit of it - the bit I'd written, which was a start. For God’s sake Scally don’t hold your breath – that blue colour is a little worrying.

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My friend Mags came round for a visit on Friday night, she told me she come home earlier to find the rice pudding Mike’s mum had made them contained, or didn't contain in this case, the rice pudding in the centre of the dish – and unless they had mice, which see doubted, Ambrose the cat had been helping himself. She said she wasn’t going to tell Mike, she scooped out all around it.

I told her about the Boxing Day my mum watched the cat stubble into the front room, his legs didn’t seem to be able to hold him up – she thought he’d had a stroke. He settled in front of the coal fire and went to sleep – she tried to wake him a couple of time to see how he was, but he didn’t seem to be responding very well.

She was extremely worried until she went to get the tea ready – my dad was looking forward to the last serving of the home made sherry trifle. The cat had quite enjoyed his share of it too. She’d made it Christmas Eve, custard made with eggs, the sponge fingers soaked well in a good helping of sherry. No wonder the cat wouldn’t wake it, he was totally pissed.

She never did tell my dad. She scrapped off where the cat had licked, covered it with pouring cream and gave him the last helping. The cat was very quiet the next day and right off his food.

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And so to Sunday…

We went out for a drive around Malvern and Hanley Swan. When I was a member of the World Wide Guiding Movement we used to camp just outside Hanley Swan, a place called Blackmore Camp. Now for all of those people who keep asking what I look like - here's a picture. You just have to decide which one of the little angels I am!

On the way back, Himself suggested we stop in Worcester for a hamburger as we weren’t eating until later. I can’t believe I was so stupid, but I just didn’t see past the Big Mac. I completely failed to notice the Homebase next door. I just never saw it coming *sob*.

In through the front door and we are met by a stunning display of Christmas trees and decorations.

.

We spent 15 fascinating minutes looking at the power tools – *nods head* maybe, one day I to will own a hammer drill just like this.

Be still my beating heart!

Next we went outside and looked at paving slabs - I was utterly mesmerized by the display of colour and choice ~ NOT!

We then wandered back inside to look at the wood – I may have been a little bored – HA HA – at this stage.

My interest soon returned and I was enthralled with the gripping display of clamps and wood carving tools.

Never fear, there was a light at the end of the tunnel – and we spent ten minutes looking at them!

Thankfully, and nearly 45minutes later, we vacated the building. I must have been a really, really, bad person in a previous life.

It goes to show what Himself is like when visiting these places – he fail to notice me taking any of these picture with my camera phone.

I posted earlier because I’ve woken up with chronic period pains, the pain shooting down my back into my legs. Why do men have it so easy? I’ve tried to think of what they have to put up with and could only think of shaving – but as we have to shave to, or even worse, wax - that hardly count’s. So I’ve taken some pain killers, soaked in a hot bath and am now fully awake – Himself is snoring is bloody head off while spread across my side of the bed.

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Well I can’t tell you how hard I worked yesterday – mainly because I spent the best part of the day exchanging jokes with Scally and did sod all else*. I have to admit she beat me, but I’m up for a rematch once I’ve been on a reconnaissance mission and found some more jokes. I haven’t laughed that much for ages - it's done me the world of good. It's also made me think how lucky I am to find such good friends, which when you hear such bad things about the internet, makes a nice change.

Some of the jokes were that awful you laughed out of pity, but we kept it up from 9.30am to about 3.00pm, until I surrended - I'd run out of ammunition.

* Proof yet again - if it's now needed - that she is a terrible influence.

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I also spent some time with the fish – they're extremely therapeutic to watch - and they recognise the sound of my voice. Just like my cat, they know who feeds them. Don’t ask me what types we’ve got – fish are like cars to me – you identify them by size, shape and colour.


We’ve a grey shark called Bruce and another tiny red tailed shark called Fergul Sharky. Shamus is hiding be hide the rock, he was named after one of the candidates who was interviewed for the General Manager's job - what an odd ball he was, with his suede shoes that didn't match his suit.





We have two angel fish called Pinky & Perky and the beautiful Gill, opposite, named after the Finding Nemo character. He comes right up to the front of the glass and follows your finger.

We also have the anthill mob, a group of orange guppies - we bred some of those ourselves. I can’t tell you how excited we where when we discovered the babies – they were so tiny and hidden in the weeds. The two catfish that pick the stones up and shoot them out again are called Hoover and Noo-Noo, and the little blue fishes are all called Peter. Last, but not least, is a long fish that cleans the algae off everything - affectionately known as Trish the fish – as it sucks the glass. Most of the fish have names that are associated with children’s programmes or films – and that probably sums up our mentality pretty well.

When I was looking for a picture for my site yesterday, I discovered that Iris was the name of the Greek Goddess of the rainbow and the winged messenger of the Gods. Iris was also refuted to be sweet, gentle and kind.

It got me thinking that we had a lot in common. No, I don’t think I’m a Goddess; even my imagination isn’t that good. But my language can be as colourful as any rainbow and when needed I have winged feet – it’s surprising how fast I can move when motivated. Sweet, gentle and kind…mmm, I’ll get back to you on that .

I’d like to tell you I knew all about Iris when I chose my web name – but I’d be lying. I started off trying to find something that went with Lily – which is the meaning of my name – but everything I thought of was already taken. I also tried Weeping Willow, but that had gone as well. After nearly an hour and going through every flower and tree in the book, I was flaming well feed up. I tried Flaming Iris as a joke, I couldn’t believe it when the registration moved onto the next step, but the name was obviously waiting just for me *grin*.

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It would appear that a certain someone has had a problem opening my blog as she hasn't been able to see anything posted after last Thursday. It's just dawned on me that I could have procrastinated even longer if I haven't opened my big mouth. I could kick myself - she's going to be on my case again now.

Another thought: I post nearly every day, I might miss the occasional weekend. No-one else seems to have a problem or at least they've not said. I suppose it could be something I'm doing wrong - nah, you're right - must be her *grin*

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Scally has once again come up trumps on a funny video, this one had me in stitches and is the best so far:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aubJdCUHgC8&eurl=

It should strike fear into the hearts of all Brats - 'if you don't start behaving I'm going to find another way of making you see sense.'

And talking of which....

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Well it was just too good to last I suppose and I’d had a good innings *sigh*. I had a ‘heated’ discussion with Himself last night on what is an acceptable time to get home from work. In all fairness he’s been warning me since Monday and I was still getting home later and later, 5.45pm last night - I was working on a leaflet for Simon's wife who's now making Christmas cakes. Yes, granted, I could have done it at home, I suppose, but I wasn't an hour late, only 45 minutes.

With hind sight, I think I may have pushed my luck a little too far when I stood to attention and saluted him.

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Because I told you about Trish yesterday it got me taking to Simon and he reminded me of something I must have pushed from my mind - and for good reason. It's good sharing memories with someone else, the re-telling of it made us laugh all over again.

Tracy, Trish and myself took a work colleague - Julia - to Merry Hill to watch a film and have a bite to eat. Julia was a single parent and didn’t get out much, so we invited her along to join us. The night didn’t get off to the best start – freezing fog was starting to come down – and no one could remember the number of the terrace house in which she lived. I was driving, Tracy didn’t know her - so I made Trish go and knock on the doors, four in total, until she found the right one - I can't imagine living in a street and no-one knowing me.

We arrived at Merry Hill and pulled up outside Pizza Hut, but they weren't letting customers in - one of their oven’s had broken. No problem – we all piled back in the car and drove to the other one that was situated inside the main shopping hall. That one was open, but there was an hour and a half's wait – which, by the time we’d have eaten, would have meant us missing the start of the film. OK, how about we go to McDonalds instead. No-go, I’m afraid, Julia’s a vegetarian and she didn’t like the McVeggie burger. It’s OK, she said – she’d just watch us eat. *deep sigh* How about we go to Burger King instead then, says Trisha, did she like their veggie burgers? So we walked through the hall only to discover that Burger King are about to close – that particular one only opens during shop hours.

About turn and back to the car we go – a discussion takes place on whether we forget the cinema and go for a balti in Brierley Hill instead. Julia doesn’t want a balti – she was looking forward to seeing that film. Fine, how about we all get back into the car and go to Frankie’s and Benny’s. Trisha said she go anywhere they sold large glasses of wine – which was a good indicated of how she was feeling at the time.

Into Frankie and Benny’s we traipse – Trish nearly had that glass of wine ordered - when Julia announced that she couldn’t possible eat there, it was too expensive. We all offered to chip in and pay for her – No, she couldn’t allow that. Fair enough – so out we all trudge. As we walked out through the door, Trish trying to suggest that maybe we forget the food and just have a drink instead, Julia notices that Pizza Hut are now letting people in.

STOP here a minute, she says, off she marches (and that really is a good description) across the road, right past the queue and in through the door. Five minutes later she’s back. We are now eating in Pizza Hut – and our table is ready. Trish, Tracy and I tried to make ourselves as small and inconspicuous as possible as we followed Julia in, straight passed the queue of people waiting patiently.

I’d like to say it got better after that, but I’d be lying. The girl arrived with the menu – Trish didn't care about the pizza – she’d just have two glasses of wine, thank you. I’m silently cursing I agreed to drive because a glass of wine sounded the best idea we’d come up with all evening.

So, what sort of pizza do we order and what about the salad bowl? I won’t bother you with all the details – suffuse to say it wasn’t pretty. You have to say one thing for Julia, she knows what she wants – and bugger everyone else. The best had to be - she wasn’t very hungry, so how about we order two large pizzas, one a veggie – and then share. After she’s polished off her sixth slice and the best part of a salad bowl and asked for a box to but some more in – I’m afraid we’d started to doubt her.

Then came the paying – Trish very quickly declared that we put it on her card and then we could pay her afterwards or we’d miss the film. Julia quibbled that we couldn’t have a four way split as Trish had, had two glasses of wine – so we would need to work it out. Looking at Trish’s face – I got the impression that she'd rather like another glass. Tracy doesn't even drink wine - but I'm pretty sure that if she had been offered one by that stage, she'd have knocked it back. Why did I offer to drive?

On to the cinema – Oh, say’s Julia, it’s got Hugh Grant in – I don’t like his films. Now, I’m not sure if Trish had reached the end of her tether or the two glasses of wine had started to take effect and loosen her tongue, but she was having none of it. We’d arranged to see that particular film, Julia knew that we where going to see that particular film and we were bloody well going to watch that particular film – capeesh! Who’s arguing? Apparently Julia sat through the whole film and didn’t laugh once – unlike the rest of us – Sandra Bullock was brilliant.

We emerged from the film to find the freezing fog had got a hell of a lot worse – you could only see a few feet in front of you. Julia moaned the whole way home – couldn’t I drive faster – she had to pay her baby sitter by the hour and it would cost more after midnight. I had a cracking headache by the time we dropped her off. Tracy was gob smacked - was she real? Unfortunately, yes, said Trish - count your blessing that you don't have to work with her.

She came into work the next morning and told everyone who’d listen what a brilliant time she’d had, and that it would be great if we did it on a regular basis. Yes, threaten me, why don’t you, and she never did pay Trish for her share of the meal.