Whilst tidying the computer room last night I came across a library book. That sinking feeling I get occasionally returned to my stomach and the thought ‘Oh FUCK’ crossed my mind.

I’ve done it again. I don’t know what it is about me and library books but I never remember to return them on time. So I located my library card and renewed the three outstanding loans over the internet, which I should have done over a week ago. I’ve beaten my record this time - £12.34 in fines. Yes, well, that’s the third time I’ve renewed them now; each time I was a few days late and it just added up.

They’re going back on Saturday morning and you’re quite right, Himself has enough to think about at the moment – so I won’t be bothering him with this.

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I was watching a cooking programme on telly last night – I don’t know why; I can't say that I enjoy cooking. Although that’s probably not quite true, I have my moments (yes, thank you, we’ll have no comments on that one). I do enjoy baking cakes when the mood takes me, which to be fair isn’t that often. But there is method to my madness – when it does happen my family really appreciates it. So does Tracy. The thing being that I am inclinded to get a little carried away and don't just produce one or two things - try enough to feed an army.

But that’s not what this is about, I was just having one of my 'Ronnie' moments– they were cooking asparagus and it triggered a memory. Did you know that asparagus makes your wee smell funny? This from a cooking programme. OK, we’ll pass on that one and move swiftly on.

As a child I was horse mad; every Sunday morning off to the riding school and school holidays given up to helping out at the stables – the return on this being: getting to spend time with the horses and the occasional free riding lesson. Looking back – slave labour, but I was happy enough. It seemed a good return on my time back then.

My next door neighbours daughter had a pony – Shelly, a black Welsh Mountain pony. She was too big to ride being, I would image 25 at the time. The daughter not the pony. But Anne used to let me groom Shelly, sit on her back and ride her up and down the paddock bare back. I’d spend hours with that pony; it wasn’t as if I would ever have one of my own.

Now there was a manor house near by and Anne was given permission to graze Shelly there. The gardener at the manor was no other than Mr Mantle – friend Hayley’s Dad. Remember me saying that I often came up with good ideas as a child, and that sometimes things went wrong but I never got the blame. This was one of those times.

We had a lovely day, Hayley and I, riding Shelly around the enclosure she was in. She was tethered to a long leading rein which only allowed her to go so far. Well, that made life a little difficult for us so we unclipped it. A couple of hours later, we'd brushed her down and after giving her half a packet of polos as payment (horse currency throughout the world) we went home.

Now it wasn’t an ordinary enclosure and Shelly had been tethered for a reason. Yes, you guessed didn’t you? We rode over the asparagus patch. Trampled it into the ground. It took real skill as well; because I don’t think we missed any of the stick like things. Gods did Hayley get into trouble for that one – she being the eldest was expected to know better. And of course I was the shy, quiet one – so it couldn’t have been anything to do with me, now could it?

And the prize at work for the person most likely to be lynched by the mob goes to….Craig, the Nine Step Wonder.

The contract on the works mobiles ended yesterday and the Finance Department in their wisdom (questionable that one) decided to change service providers from Orange to 02. As the mobiles are only a year old and being a charity, it was decided that we’d keep the phones and just change the sim cards inside.

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The idiot’s guide on how not to change a sim card in a mobile phone.


Step One: Craig gives everyone a new sim card and the instructions on how to change it.

Step Two: Craig finds out the hard way that you can’t just put a new sim card into the mobile. You have to get the phone unlock from Orange to any other network. I did mention that point at Step One – but I’m a woman, what would I know about technical processes?

Step Three: None of the mobiles are now working – Orange having cut us off at 9.30 a.m. No one can contact anybody and if anything went wrong with the staff out with clients, well let’s not go there. I suppose if a client did start to play up you could always throw the mobile at them, ringing for help being out of the question.

Step Four: Craig rings Orange to see if they will give us the code. Of course they will – at a cost of £20.00 per mobile (I saw that one coming as well).

Step Five: Major discussion takes place in Finance Department to decide on the best way forward. After half an hour a decision is made to collect in all the mobiles and take then into town to get them unlocked, which will cost £10.00 per mobile. Forward planning, the heart of a good Finance Department – which tells you a lot about Laurel and Hardy in ours.

Step Six: Craig collects all the mobiles (and this included him trying to track down everyone who was off site – write off the best part of the day).

Step Seven: After collecting the mobiles and getting them opened up to accept the 02 sim card, Craig in his wisdom cuts up all the old sim cards in the shop.

Step Eight: Craig returns mobiles to their owners.

Step Nine: Everyone finds out that the ‘silly man’ hadn’t bothered to transfer the information from the old sim card to the mobile. Resulting in the lost of every mobile number and text message you had saved on your phone.

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To say I was a little miffed is an understatement. Over half of the numbers on my mobile I don’t have stored anywhere else. Not just personal and work colleagues, but all of my HR contacts and college contacts have gone.

Of course the fun really started when I got a couple of text messages – I hadn’t got a clue who they were off. You feel a right fool having to contact the person to find out. Looking on the bright side that was two numbers I could programme back in.

We went out for a drive yesterday and ended up at Witley Court. It wasn’t planned – as we drove past we saw the English Heritage sign. Even though it’s not far away I can’t say I know much about the place, other than the fact it was destroyed by fire and E H were restoring parts of it.

(If blogger is in the right mood - you can click on the picture and it will enlarge)

I can’t believe something so outstandingly phenomenal was so close by and I’ve never visited it before. What a stupendous building and surrounding grounds. You can’t help feeling saddened that it now stands a derelict empty shell. So much of it’s exquisiteness has just crumbled away.

But on saying that, it isn’t difficult to imagine what visitors must have felt all those years ago when they first saw this magnifiant estate in all its splendour. Its haunting beauty still remains and with a little imagination you can go back in time and visualise all of its grandeur.

Walking through the house and seeing the fountain framed in a decaying doorway took me completely by surprise. It was one of those jaw dropping moments. I’ve never seen anything like it. As I walked down the pathway towards it I was awe struck. I’m not normally very hot when it comes to history but I instantly recognised the scene in front of me.

Pegasus the winged horse with Perseus on his back, slaying the sea serpent, and Andromeda chained to a rock. As a child I always thought the sea serpent was a Kraken, thank you Hollywood, but Greek history mentions Keto – both mean sea serpent, so I don’t suppose it matters. The fountain was only partly working, with the cupids or sea nymphs sitting on an ornate fish shooting out water.

The photographs just don’t do it justice, or even begin to capture the size.

The other fountain is still in disrepair, but looking around at the work that's underway, I would imagine that one day it to will be returned to its full glory.

The only down side was the grounds closed at 4 p.m. and there wasn’t enough time to explore all of the estate. We only briefly visited the church, with it's ornate decor, so without a doubt we’ll be paying a return visit in the summer.

I’d like to think that as a child I was quite thoughtful towards other people and although an only child, I don’t think I was overly spoilt. OK, maybe a little bit spoilt.

For a start I can remember my Nan asking me to get her a book out of the cupboard once and when I got there, I found a box containing a soft toy version of Hector from Hectors House. She often did things like that, but in all honesty I don’t think I really appreciated it or that I would have missed it if she hadn’t. The things I enjoyed the most cost nothing – just her time. She’d keep all her old birthday and Christmas cards, a fair few of which were embossed. We'd spend ages colouring in the insides of them. She’d tell me stories about my mum growing up, she taught me to knit, iron and cook. I just enjoyed spending time with her.

But there is a memory that remains crystal clear in my mind – I think it was the first time in my life that I actually remember not getting my own way. I’m sure I didn’t get my own way all of the time anyway – but with no siblings to compete with I got all of my mum’s attention. I enjoyed helping her and we were very close, even at that age she was my friend as well as my mum.

I can remember wanting to join the Brownies, a must for every 7 year old back then, but there was a long waiting list. So having the type of mother that made things happen – she did just that, she decided to start a second Brownie pack. This meant her giving up her time and a certain amount of training was also involved. All good stuff, well for me and the others on the waiting list at least – after she’d got her licence we could don the brown dress, the beret and make our promise.

Before any of this could happen Mum had to spend a certain amount of time with the 1st Brownie pack. The normal week to week meetings didn’t bother me. It was a day out that had been arranged that put my nose out of joint.

Brown Owl had invited everyone to her house. She had an outdoor swimming pool so everyone got to take their costume. There were games arranged and a party with jelly and ice cream. See, even after 34 years I can still remember the day’s agenda very clearly. If I close my eyes I can still picture that swimming pool and the changing cubicles.

The problem being, well for me at least, was that I couldn’t go. I wasn't invited. I’m sure there were other times in my life before then that Mum went places without me – can’t remember them through. I can remember the Brownie party.

Mum patiently explained why I couldn’t go with her, told me she would do something special with me afterwards, explained that by doing this she would get her licence and I could then become a Brownie. I can remember her telling me that I couldn’t always go everywhere with her and that although I couldn’t see it, she was in fact doing this for me. And of course I accepted this and understood.

Did I bugger – I whinged, whined and when that failed – sulked. I refused to speak to her. I tried every ploy known to child to get her to change her mind – and she wouldn’t. I can remember going with Dad in the car to drop her off and even at that point I thought I could get her to say yes, you can stop. She didn’t and I was absolutely gutted. I cried all the way home. I cried most of the day, and nothing my Dad or Nan said could console me. I was in shock. It was one hell of a wake up call. Actually, I'm surprised I didn't get smacked - but I can honestly say I can't ever remember ever getting smacked as a child.

I got over it eventually, but it came as a hell of a surprise to find out that the world didn’t revolve around me and that I sometimes needed to put other peoples feelings before my own. One of life’s important lessons and one that I've never forgotten.

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Talking to eldest last night he asked me if I could remember ‘Murphy & the Bricks’? He used to listen to it with his Nan, he said. He had liked it as a child because it contained the word ‘bloody’ and 'sod', so it allowed him to swear. After much searching I managed to track it down, which will please him no end as he hasn’t been able to find it.

http://www.funnyfriends.co.uk/wav/corries.mp3

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I’m off out tonight for a meal with future daughter-in-law and her mum, who works as an undertaker and has a black humour that surpasses my own. Actually, she's a really nice lady and son is lucky to be getting a nice mother-in-law. And even better, she’s offered to drive. Hooray – I get to drink, and if I keep taking the cold tablets with a bit of luck I’ll be able to sleep the night away without listening to Himself’s raising the roof impression.

I never made it into work today. I did give it some serious thought this morning, but the headache that had been niggling over the last couple of days had decided to upgrade itself to a complaint. My cold had decided to make its feelings known on the matter and in the end I thought bugger it, I’m going back to bed for a couple of hours. I rang in sick – just in case anyone missed me.

I woke up at dinner time and took some more pain killers. The headache was now just whinging in the background again, but my cold was still making it’s feelings known. So I got something to eat and then look the dogs for a walk down the fields in the hope that the fresh air would unblock my nose. It did, although I can’t decide if a runny nose is in fact an improvement.

This morning I had thought that if I got a couple of hours sleep I could go into work this afternoon. As is apt to happen, I changed my mind. No one else ever does, if they're ill they are off for days – in fact a certain person had been off for nearly a week, so why the hell should I feel guilty over one day.

My upbringing I suppose, both my parents worked hard and set the example that to take time off you had to be really ill. I can only ever remember my mum taking to her bed once in her life; regardless of the rheumatoid arthritis, the osteoporosis and the angina, it was chicken poxs that succeeded where all else had failed. She’d caught it off Stephen, who was about four at the time and it totally knocked her off her feet.

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Whilst out with the dogs I found a tree that had been killed by woodworm – I’ve lived in the country all my life and it had never crossed my mind once that, that could happen. Woodworm was something antique furniture suffered from or old floorboards, I didn’t expect to find it down the field. Well you live and you learn as they say.

My presents was required at the Trustees meeting last night. I got informed that I would be taking the minutes as the Company Secretary had flu.

Amazing isn’t it? This meeting was postponed last week because the Financial Controller was off for four days with a virus and he hadn’t completed the accounts. I know we’ve grown as a company but I use to manage to produce the accounts on time as well as my other jobs. That is all Mr FC has to do and he’s got an assistant. In fact, and it has been noted higher up, that there is a bit of a pattern emerging whenever accounts information is required for the Trustees meeting. They get it eventually – but just lately, rarely at the meeting.

So Mr Company Secretary was away with the flu. Me, I’ve just got a cold and I’m still here. I wonder if I can get an upgrade? It’s a sod having a conscience; there must be a way of losing it occasionally, it's just that I haven’t found out how to give it the slip yet.

Digressing again, another of my Ronnie Corbett moments. I was called into the General Managers office where the Chairman informed me of my role for the evening. No, I wasn’t asked, I was told. It must be in my Job Description, he said – how the fuck would he know? This from the prat that can’t even get my job title right and keeps calling me the Administrator.

He was coldly informed that it wasn’t in my Job Description and just as much to the point - it wouldn't be appearing in my Job Description and surprisingly enough, that I did have commitments already. Well I did, who else would be cooking dinner? The General Manager stepped in and smoothed feathers – appealing to my better side. I didn’t known I had one. They couldn’t postpone the meeting again, would I help out?

It wasn’t so much that I would now be working till turned 8 p.m., it was the way it was assumed that I would automatically do it, as if I had no choice in the matter. Is it no longer good manners to be asked? So I ended up going home at 4.30 p.m. and preparing dinner for everyone else and then returned to work, the hero of the moment. Yeah, right. Tea lady more like – could I get everyone a drink before they started? A bite your tongue moment.

So although I’ve got more than enough work to keep me going – I now have the minutes to type up and distribute as well.

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Still no snow. It was frosty through, Jack Frost must have been on overtime last night painting ferns. Found this on top of Himself's car.

The big chill has been forecast over the next few days, snow and ice is set to sweep down from the north. And isn’t that just bloody typical? By the time the snow gets to the Midlands the greedy buggers up north will have used it all up and there’ll be none left for us. We’ll just get left with the frost and the odd bit of sleet. It’s not fair – why should they get one of the best mediums for taking pictures? I’ve not got a single picture of snow.

This is awful, Chris will out do me. I can't be having that, he's already got an unfair advantage with the scenery in Scotland. It's bad enough Scally thinking she can take pictures of trees.

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I woke up at 4.00 a.m. on Sunday to hear youngest moving around and called out to check if he was all right. He was fine, he said – he was getting ready to go fishing with Jon from next door. What? At 4 a.m? Yes, Dad – who was currently snoring for England – knew all about it.

That’s another reason I’m not sleeping, Himself has taken to lying flat on his back with a pillow by the side of him to support his elbow. His mouth drops open and away he goes. You can hear him snoring even when you’re downstairs.

OK, once again, I can only reiterate that I can be incredibly naive at times. I took the 'we're going fishing' at face value and assumed that the pair of them were off for a days fishing. Thick or what? Come 6.30a.m., they were both back and cooking bacon for breakfast.

And they didn’t come back alone, did they? No, the Artful Dodger and his sidekick, Charley Bates, brought five trout with them for company. Very nice, Himself said – poached trout, and I’m not talking about the method of cooking here. The little sods had walked to one of the many fishing pools around and about – and half inched them.

So while I’m bouncing up and down on the spot – not a happy person, no one else seems to have a problem with it. Jon’s Dad and Himself think I’m nuts – they can join the queue, there are plenty in it already. Poaching, they insisted, was a time honoured method of acquiring a few meals. I disagreed – it was theft – and they weren't to encourage them in the future, because apparently, this had all been discussed when the four of them returned from the local the night before. I’m just grateful that they didn’t get caught. Never mind bloody kids - it's the fathers that you have to worry about.

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And today’s pictures were taken yesterday at Trimpley Reservoir

The sun and it's reflection on the water, shining though the trees. Although it doesn't show it, it was bloody cold and I'd left my gloves at home.

And wasn't it nice of the Severn Valley Railway to send a train for me to photograph.

I spent a pleasant afternoon walking around Worcester – with my camera of course. I even agreed to walk around Homebase with Himself. Poor bugger’s feeling a little bit feed up with it all, so it was the least I could do. Marriage is full of compromise and I’m sure he appreciated the sacrifice I made walking around looking at power tools – although to be honest, I’d have though it would have depressed him more, it’s not as if he can use any for the next three weeks.

There was a slight breeze outside, but nothing much. It was bloody cold though – so we wandered into a café for a hot drink and a bit to eat.

All in all a very relaxing day.



Elizabeth I by R L Boulton,stands above the central window of the The Alice Ottley & Royal Grammer School.

Worcester Cathedral, the River Severn in flood.

Worcester Race Course, all meetings called off.

And one silhouette shot on the way home of a flooded field

I can’t believe the problems I’m having composing an argument. Me, the woman who’d disagreed with a paper bag. Whether it’s because I'm tired or just not in the mood, I don’t know, but the muse just isn’t there. It’s not the arguing that the problem – just lately, I’m down right snappy at times and I'm not particually happy about the fact that my temper is getting the better of me. After I’ve said it, it’s too late – you can’t rewind and take it back, no matter how much you’d like to - so why say it to start with? I know the answer to that one too, I'm tired.

Of course the more I try to force the creative gene, the more it scuttles back into the dark abyss of my imagination and I become even more annoyed with myself. That’s just it I suppose, I need to be in a certain mind frame to write and I’m not. Did I mention I’m tired?

I considered taking some holiday but I’m that busy at the moment, it doesn’t seem possible. My manager has agreed that I can advertise for another member of staff, but that in itself seems more trouble than it’s worth.

Being a charity we don’t offer the best of salaries, and as the saying goes, if you pay peanuts – you get monkeys. I lost two members of staff, one moved out of the area and the other moved over to our newly defined Financial Department. Trouble being, new Financial Department did not take the running of the claims or the Payroll with them.

At the time I was assured that eventually the claims would become their jurisdiction. They just needed time to settle in and get the systems in place. Payroll, everyone agreed would stay with me. Aren't I the lucky one. Unfortunately twelve months on and the claims are still my responsibility, which is putting tremendous strain on my time management abilities. It’s becoming harder and harder to cover my other tasks as Officer Manger, and what with Dilys dropping her days down to two and spending more time in Spain – and who can blame her, she has already had a career as a Tax Inspector - little things in HR are slipping as well.

I don’t like it – I feel out of control, my finger isn’t on the pulse. And I'm so bloody tired I haven’t the energy or inclination to do anything about it. Now I’ve been told by my Manager that she wants me to keep control of the claims and would rather provide me with extra support than pass then over to Finance, and all I can see is the extra work involved for me in training them. Yes, OK - long term, less work for me, but that doesn't help me now. I may have mentioned that I'm tired.

The worse part in all of this for me, is knowing that I'm not firing on all cylinders and getting annoyed with myself because of it, which I'm afraid leads other people suffering. The knock on effect is that I then get upset because I've upset someone. It’s one vicious bloody circle.

Oh, and I'm tired.

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The weather here is awful and the news that ten people have lost their lives doesn’t do much to lift the spirits. I can’t imagine anything worse than saying goodbye to someone in the morning and then getting the news that they’ve been taken from you without warning.

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I’m going to try and get some extra sleep over the weekend, I’m sure things will seem better then. Himself keeps asking if I'm depressed again - which I'm not. There is a world of difference between depression and just feeling fed up and miserable. No one is happy all of the time, so why should I be any different?

I quite fancy a walk around the village if it doesn’t rain, with camera of course. I love taking pictures, trying to capture something that I see and produced it again in digital format to keep as a memory. It will do Himself good too, he’s fed up with being stuck in the house and I think we could do with a bit of 1-2-1 time together, without my father and our son demanding attention.

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While I don't appreciate all the rain we're getting - George does. He's in his element routing around. Must be were the phase - 'mucky duck', comes from. Dirty little sod needs a bath.

They’ve forecast severe gales again, it’s so calm as I’m sat here typing this (Wednesday 10.00pm), that it’s hard to believe – must be a similar feeling when you’re in the eye of the hurricane. There’s no rain, not even a hint of a breeze – everything’s really peaceful.

I love lying in bed listen to the wind and the rain lashing against the window – but after working for my company for so long – I now spare a thought for the homeless. Most are living their lives with little or no protection from the elements. It really makes me appreciate just how lucky I am. When things go wrong, it’s easy to forget that.

Update (Thursday 9:00am): OK, the weatherman was right - the wind has arrived with a vengeance and brought its friend the rain to add its pennyworth to the argument.

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Himself insisted that he went shopping with me – I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t have it. I can understand why he wanted to go – he’s normally very active, being stuck in doors during the day is driving him potty, but it would have been so much quicker by myself.

He’s finding his incapacity wearing to say the least – he has to rely on me for things that he’s always taken for granted. Mine you, you’d think he’d enjoy me giving him a shower. Lucky man! I’m getting better at it too, I get only slightly splashed now, compared to the drenching I got last week.

He’s taken to watching day time TV, which to be fair would depress the happiest of people. I came home yesterday to find him watching Crown Court. Wow, did that bring back some memories, even down to the music. I can remember watching it with my Nan when I was ill and off school, I think it came on about 2.00pm. I can’t imagine for the life of me that I would have understood it, being only 7 at the time.

Children’s programmes weren’t on continuously like they are these day. Which is probably the reason I remember them so well. Play School sticks in my mind, along with the famous – and today we are going to look through the ‘square/round/arch’ window. So with that in mind, it also stands to reason that I can still name all the toys; Humpty Dumpty, Big Ted, Little Ted, Hamble (God what an ugly doll) and Jemima, and not forgetting Dapple, the old fashioned Rocking Horse. I really wanted that rocking horse.

My personal favourite children’s programme was Pipkins. I can still remember watching the very fist episode, where Indigo Pipkin introduced the characters of Hartley Hare (very bossy), Pig (a Brummie – from Birmingham), Topov (the monkey, always climbing), Octavia (the singing ostrich) and Tortoise (lived in the till). Their sole role in life was to help people.

After a while, Indigo disappear and Johnny, his assistant took over. As a child I never knew why, it wasn’t until a few years ago that I discovered it was because the gentleman playing him had died. These days, no doubt we’d have been told that and the feelings around death discussed.

The other programmes around at this time were Rainbow, (the script here is well worth reading just for the innuendo's, although it was never broadcast, just the cast having a bit of fun) and Hickory House, with Dusty Mop and his large red nose (another bossy bugger), Humphrey Cushion who liked banana's. These two were always causing bother - a right couple of brats.



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And today's picture was taken during the Christmas week - a promise of things to come.

OK, so yesterday isn’t going down in history as one of my better days. My toe hurt, I’d got a headache and I could quite honestly say the last time I felt that tired was after the eldest was born. I’m glad I had my kids when I was young, heaven knows how I’d have coped if I'd had been older. Only after your first child do you experience such tiredness – and Gods does it come as a surprise.

Tweedle Did and Tweedle Did Not were arguing the rules of the Christmas competition and whether they’d been adhered to (they’re funny when they get going, quite the double act). The one was shouting I WON at the top of her voice and the other was implying that she’d cheated.

I don’t know what Rudy made of their appalling behaviour, good job I set a better example otherwise she could have been put off judging for life – and then who could we ask, because although I suggested that they thump me if I ever came up with a competition again, it’s bound to happen somewhere along the line. We’re way too competitive and all convinced we’re the better photographer.

I came to work without my lunch, which I’d left on the kitchen counter. Of course I didn’t realise this until after the Sandwich Lady had visited, and couldn’t be bothered to go out and get something. I had one Oat Bar in my drawer, so I made do with that. Yes, you're right, they contain an unhealthy amount of sugar - but guess what? I don't care.

I then indulged in ten minutes of pure self pity and moaned at both of the Tweedles – in return they agreed to feel sorry for me, but only for a few minutes. Which was fine, I wasn’t allowing myself any longer anyway. Self pity isn’t really my thing - and there is a difference between that and moaning like hell, but a nibble every now and again doesn’t hurt you.

Everything changed when I got home – Himself had decided that we were going out to eat. I put up a token argument about the money involved in this and then gave in gracefully. We had a lovely meal at the local pub – which we walked to, and I enjoyed a bottle of wine. Yes, that’s right, a bottle – all to myself - no sharing what so ever. Himself isn’t a wine drinker and with the pain killers he’s taking, he had to limit his in take. I did no such thing – I drank the lot, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Things were looking up, and the world took on that lovely light headed amicable feeling that only alcohol can induce.

Things looked up even more when we got home and I found out himself could now use his left arm within limits without it sending shooting pains down his broken shoulder. So I went to bed one very happy person, and it wasn’t just down to the wine.

Our Christmas Photo Competition was judged yesterday – thank you, Rudy, nothing like being put on the spot and made to choose. I’ve included a copy of her e-mail, because it had me in stitches, and God knows, I need a laugh.

Hey guys,

Ok...after agonizing over the artistic pictures and I mean agonizing...I've finally made up my mind. These pictures are too beautiful for words. Not just sucking up here, I truly loved and reacted to them all.

Y'all have any idea how hard this was?

No, really...any clue?

I mean these images are amazing....

Incredible!

Hey...it's my moment in the sun....I'm savoring here...

Savour, savour, savour...


Ok...nuff Savouring...onto proclaiming...

Yes, I know Quackers (Bloody cheek!) said pick 1st and 2nd, but in her first email asking me to do this she said 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, so I'm going with that :-P.

Drum roll....rumblerumblerumblerumblerumble....


Funny Category:

3rd place: #P-9, Max Speed (me)

2nd place: #P-7, Snowduck(me)

AND....May I have the envelope...

Oh...Sorry...wrong awards....

1st Place:


#IMG_0055, About to be naughty woman w/big bow hat tree! (Scally - yes, trust her to find this one).

(Don't even try it...Gimme a break...that naughty part was the reason this one got entered, ya little pervs) .
Ok...now....onto artistic....like we say in the dog show world...there wasn't a wrong choice to make...you guys are something else...I swiped your work by the way...they are all safely saved in my computer, lol. (there's my one for the day).

In 3rd place: #P-2, Rails less Travelled (Scally)
(Showed these to my son and my friend...this one leapt out at all three of us...beautiful, hopeful...gorgeous)

2nd Place: Just-a Swingin' (Chris - Sadly, this reminded me of a the magic roundabout) .
(Amazing bridge of time...that incredible ancient architecture as the backdrop for modern-day amusements)....Love the contrasts...Glowing colourful light vs. the dark stone...gosh, just love it.

And in 1st place....(c’mon....where's my drum-roll)...rumblerumblerumblerumblerumble...

Ladies and Gent...We have a tie! That's right...a tie....There was just no way to choose between these two striking, breathtaking pictures,

#'s P-11, the moon tree, and P-3, the blue tree (Scally, me)

WOOOOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

CONGRATULATIONS TO THE WINNERS AND ALL THE PARTICPANTS!!!

There’ll be no living with Scally now – she’ll be walking round looking like the Cheshire Cat, but I’ll grudgingly admit that I would have chosen the tree with the prevy lady in it and I loved the railway line.

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I’m feeling sorry for myself this morning. No, not because Scally walked off with most of the glory and we’ll get hints about this in e-mails for months to come (and to prove that point - view the comment left on Chris's blog, at least he got a poor you with it) - but because I’ve hurt my toe.

Himself wouldn’t wait a minute for me to help him get undressed last night and in my rush I kicked the books that are currently under the bottom of the bed. The specialist told us to put them there to raise the bed as it would help Himself from slipping down the pillows in the night.

I turned into a wailing banshee for a few minutes and used words that a lady probably shouldn’t know, let alone scream – but it hurt. Really hurt. *Sniff*

Looking on the funny side – it would have made a great picture, Himself with his t-shirt stuck over his head, couldn’t see or do a thing and me holding my foot, hopping up and down on the spot.

It’s not broken, just bruised and painful to walk on. I couldn’t put my boots on this morning and have gone to work in trainers instead, and I’ve taken them off now that I’ve got here.

My luck's changing. While cleaning the bedroom yesterday I came across a wrapped up box of Thortons chocolates that I didn't use at Christmas and had forgot about. And very nice they were too - no, I didn't eat all of them, I don't like the coffee ones for a start, but I may have put the box where others can't see.

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So according to the news, Britain is due for some more freak weather. They’ve forecast high winds, torrential rain and then frost. No mention what-so-ever of snow. Bloody typical. The last time we had snow that was worth mentioning around here was in 1987. Good grief, twenty years ago.

Eldest was a babe in arms back then and I was worried sick the coalman wouldn’t be able to make his weekly delivery, the fire being the only form of heating. Our road was completely cut off and Himself couldn’t get to work. So as well as worrying that we’d freeze to death, I worried about the drop in wages too. If he didn’t work, he didn’t get paid. Ah, the good only days.

I remember taking the spaniel we had at the time - Bramble, the first dog we owned as a couple, for a walk on the village green. He disappeared in the snow drifts, it was that deep. You'd just see his head popping up and down occasionally. His ears heavy with the snow that had stuck to them.

When we were kids we loved snow days – you could guarantee that the school coach wouldn’t turn up, the good thing about living on top of a hill. Everyone would hang around till 8.45am and then shoot off home. We were meant to wait until 9.00am, but we never did – the coach might have made an appearance by then.

We’d all meet up down the fields – a motley crew carrying sledges, tea trays and plastic sacks (you could tell whose dad was a farmer). Not the plastic sort of sledges you get nowadays, these where heavy wooden things – not that many people had them. After all it was easy staying on a wooden sledge. The real skill and expertise was staying upright on a metal tea tray. The plastic bags were good too, unless you went over a rock or stone, then it hurt like hell because you had a numb bum.

You had to abandon ship before you got to the bottom of the field – or else brave the thorn brushes and the bramble patch. Many a child received a war wound from that bramble patch when they falled to disembark in time.

We’d eventually go home, soaked to the skin and freezing cold. No matter how many pairs of stocks you put on under your wellies, your feet would be like blocks of ice and they hurt like hell when they started to warm up again.

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I went into town on Saturday to buy Himself a 'V' shaped pillow to support his shoulder and arm - while I was there I came across some children’s hot water bottles with animal covers, Himself got a Koala Bear. It was just the right size to put on his shoulder, to help with the pain.

Of course the spoil sport won’t let me take a picture. I thought I could have used it as one of my funny ones in the Christmas Competition. Mind you, the Koala Bear might count as cute and I’d be disqualified then.

I'm now waiting for the moment he drops off to sleep.

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After deciding which photos to enter in the competition, I had a fiddle with some of the remaining ones - yes, fiddling again. I got an interesting result when I changed this one to drawing.






And I didn't change this one at all, I got the effect by pointing the camera towards the sun.

I’ve spent five minutes staring at myself in the mirror and no matter how hard I look I still can’t see it. I’ve tried it with the light on and the light off – still nothing. What am I looking for? The word ‘Sucker’ tattooed across my forehead, that’s what.

I had a pre-arranged meeting yesterday morning, with a representative from Mencap regarding the new contract we’ve got with them. The work involved in preparing for the meeting was spilt between myself and the Team Leader in charge of the project. Due to Himself’s hospital appointment on Thursday I didn’t get into work to finish all that I needed to do, so being the conscientious sort I went in there Thursday night, downloaded what I needed to a memory stick and took it home to finish.

Come Friday morning, although I wasn’t a 100% satisfied with what I got, I at least had something to show that the foundations were well in place, and of course the Team Leader would be able to back me up with his side of things.

Our receptionist let me know that our visitor had arrived and I ask her to tell the Team Leader. She couldn’t, she said, he wasn’t here, he was off sick. What? Yes, Simon had told her this morning. Great, bloody great – and no one had thought to tell me. Unfortunate moment for Simon, who walked past my door at that point and got smited. I’m afraid that lack of sleep in my case, does not a happy person make. Simon, well aware of what I’m like when I’m pissed off, hid under the desk and waited for the storm to pass by. He only came out when I promised not to castrate him. He might want another child.

Much grovelling followed. Yes, he did know about the meeting but had genuinely forgotten to tell me about the Team Leader being ill. He was sorry, very sorry – he knew how important it was. I got the receptionist to show our visitor to the meeting room and get her a drink while I got the Team Leaders side of things together. It didn’t take long, and why is that you ask? Simple – the bastard had hardly done anything. What a coincidence that he was ill on the day he should have been presenting his findings.

Fucking wonderful, and yes, I am allowed to swear, it’s my blog and I can’t be arsed to put stars in place of the characters. I had a meeting to attend with only half of the information that I needed. On top of which I wasn’t functioning properly due to lack of sleep.

The outcome – I got through it, maybe not my greatest performance, but the lady from Mencap went away happy. Well fairly happy at any rate – I highlighted a few discrepancies regarding ESF paperwork and she would now have to sort them out. But I think she still likes me.

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Christmas friend paid a visit last night, walked in as if nothing had happened and started to tell me about her week. I was left once again feeling totally bemused. I did think about bringing it up in the conversation but she made it obvious that she didn’t want to talk about it, and I suppose I’ve got to the stage now that I really can’t be arsed to try to sort it out between us. Not that I should have to, she being the one who didn’t want to play nicely last week. Sad really, I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same way about her again.


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While filling in Himself’s sick note on Thursday night, I got to the part where you enter the date. My stomach sank...oh Gods...11th January – only Tracy’s Birthday – and I’d forgotten. I’d remembered it at the start of the week and I knew what I wanted to buy her, I’d seen it last week in a local shop but didn’t have time to go in and buy it. She collects fairies and I knew she’d love this one.

But with everything that had gone on it had totally slipped my mind. I rang her, apologised - don’t worry about it she said, she’d just milk it for all it was worth for the rest of the year. I explained about Himself and started to apologise again, she totally ignored me and started to ask questions. We carried on talking over each other for a couple of minutes, until she told me to stop being a silly cow and shut up – charming!

It didn’t matter, we did things for each other all year round, forget the birthday it wasn’t important. Now, what could she do to help me? But it was important to me, I didn’t want her to think I didn’t care or value what we had. If I didn’t shut up, she said, she was going to have to buy me that bloody awful ‘special friends’ necklace that we keep threatening each other with. I soon put her straight on that one, if she ever brought me one of those she had better keep a very close eye on all her Westlife pictures, because they would all start spouting moustaches.

I went into town during my lunch break on Friday and got the present, then got a bollocking for my trouble – did I really think she was so self centred? And that she gave a flying fuck about me forgetting? Apparently I looked like crap – never one for beating about the brush – what the hell was I playing at rushing around trying to do everything. Yes, she loved the present, she was really chuffed with it, and she really appreciated me taking the time to go and get it, but it wouldn’t have made a blind bit of difference to our friendship if I’d missed this year.

I know that, we been though good times and bad and in all the years we’ve known each other, I can honestly say, we’ve never fallen out. We openly disagree about things and will always tell the other honestly what we think, but that’s it. We don’t judge each other. We don’t play games.

When the kids were little, both families spent a week together sharing a caravan in Cornwall – I knew then that I’d found a special friend – nine people living in close proximity and not a cross word.

Montgomery Street have update their site. Sulya has been very busy, worn her fingers to the bone, by the looks of it.

Ben & Chris: When is a joke not a joke?
Three from Deus ex machina, this series is a personal favourite of mine: The Mismatch Unit , The Affluence of Incohol & Hark the...Who?
And a new series The Titans: Cam , Ben

I know I've said this before, and will no doubt mention it again - but if you enjoy reading an authors stories, a little note saying thank you means a lot.


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Himself has managed to break his shoulder. I spent four and a half hours in A & E last night after he fell up a step delivering a letter to the OAP bungalows, it had been delivered to us by mistake.

An hour in our local hospital, unfortunately no x-ray after 5.30pm and the silly bugger was only in the process of tripping himself up at that point, very inconsiderate of him – his timing sucks. They initially thought it was a rotator cuff injury, but gave us the option of going to Worcester where they had 24 hour x-ray facilities or we could return in the morning and see the radiographer then.

It didn’t take me long to decide. Himself was incapable of any real movement and he couldn’t hide the amount of pain he was in. So we spent a further three and half hours in Worcester. Where, I have to say – he received rave reviews. Everyone was interested in the x-ray of his shoulder - what an unusual break, quite rare in fact. It caused quite a stir. I'm so glad we made their evening – I told Himself that was his five minutes of fame used up.

The highlight of this experience - paying £3.50 to park. £15.00 after seven hours. I understand that this is a way for the hospital to top up their budget – but I can’t help thinking it was extortionate. It doesn't cost that much to park in Worcester City Centre.

And the silver lining in all of this - when we got home, Steve and Lucy had fed Granddad, fed the dogs and cat, put the ducks away for the night and prepared us something to eat. All without being asked, just because they cared and were worried about us. It completed knocked me sideways, I wasn’t expecting it – it opened the floodgates too and I had to escape upstairs for 10 minutes to get a grip.

Sleeping was nigh on impossible for Himself last night – the pain killers hardly touched it. I didn’t sleep very well either – so you can imagine my joy when the phone rang at 3.30am. The burglar alarm had been activated at work, and guess which manager lives the closest and is key holder number one – yes, yours truly.

That caused a few cross words. He couldn’t very well go with me and no way was he ‘allowing’ – yes, that word does rub me up the wrong way - me to go there on my own. In the end, I got Matthew to go with me. It had only been a silent alarm, which means only one circuit had been broken and with the gale that was blowing last night, I did wonder if a branch had broken a window.

When we got there we had a look around before going inside and discovered that the upstairs fire escape door was wide open. So we went back around the front and upon opening the door shouted – Police. We then listened to see if anyone ran. Nothing. In we walked. Of course this tripped the second sensor and the alarm sounded throughout the building and outside.

I entered my code – nothing happen, the bloody thing didn’t turn off. I tried several times more, still nothing. Maybe it was because the fire door was open. So we had a look downstairs for unwanted guests and then as I was walking upstairs my mobile rang. It was the alarm company, checking I was OK. Very nice of them, and they stayed on the phone until I checked upstairs. Locking the fire escape door, I went back to the alarm and tried my code again. Still nothing. Not to worry, said the lady, she’d call an engineer – would I be OK to wait. Not a problem, Matt and I sat down in reception, hoping the engineer would hurry up.

As I was sat there it suddenly dawn on me that I was an idiot, a complete fool, a halfwit – feel free to stop me at any time – I hadn’t been typing in my alarm code. No, I’d been typing in my bank pin number. No wonder it didn’t work. I managed to stop the engineers visited, reset the alarm and went back home to bed.

We were woken by Steve entering the house at 7.30am with my granddad’s newspaper. He’d called in on the way to work. He also let the ducks out and helped me get Himself up and out of bed. What did I do to deserve such a great son?

Outcome of visit to facture clinic – they can't do anything as such. Not that I expected anything else - he's got some heavy duty pain killers, a special sling and an appointment to go back in 4 weeks time, and they'll take it from there. He’s got to rest it, time being the healer and he’s not going to like that one little bit – Himself doesn’t do, doing nothing and in the process, no doubt he’ll drive me mad.

I took the dogs for their three monthly pampering session on Monday – cut and blow dry and a manicure. It comes to something when your pets have a better time of it than you.

No one does the sad eyes look better than a spaniel.

And, no one does a ‘for God's sake, get a life’ look better than a cat.

I'm really busy at work this week - so blog is limited. Yes I can hear the cheers - hence the pictures.

Friday night and Christmas friend’s husband turned up without friend. She wasn’t coming he said, because she felt that I’d spent more time with Tracy than with her on New Years Eve and she didn’t feel that I’d made her very welcome.

This from the woman who I'd entertained all over Christmas - the same woman who brought a bottle of wine for New Years Eve - drank all our alcohol, got well bladdered, and then took the bottle she brought back with her.

Now a few months ago, that would have really upset me - I would then have been on the phone to her saying how sorry I was, asking her to forgive me. In my mind, without a doubt, it would have been something I’d done.

It suddenly dawned on me how much I’ve moved on over the last six months, that I’ve started to become my old self again. Yes, God help everyone. I most certainly didn’t get to this stage by myself – I’ve had help. Not just from Himself – who took controlled when I hit the depths of despair and very slowly stepped back as I started to move forward again. Help from friends who wouldn’t have know just what an affect their friendship has had on me.

People who are honest with me, down to earth and straight forward and accept me for myself, it’s amazing how difficult it is to find people like that, have helped me gain confidence and self belief again.

New Years Eve was the first time I'd really seen Tracy for about a month. I spent time with everyone at the party and yes, I probably did spend a bit more time with Trace, but Maggie had me all to herself for 3 days - 3 days where I waited hand and foot on her, her son and everyone else. I happen to think I was entitled to do something for me.

So come Friday night - I thought, sod you. I imagine Maggie thought I'd ring her up and ask what I'd done to upset her – that’s exactly what I have done in the past, when she’s got funny over something. Assumed it was my fault, and apologised.

Not any more I’m afraid, she would be learning the hard way. I refuse to play her silly games - because it is a mind game, a way of controlling people, and the days of people having that sort of control over me are long gone.

I have lots of friends, all different and I get enjoyment from all of them. If she can't accept that, then I'm afraid she is going to miss out. I told Mick that she was still welcome next week, but I wasn't going to apologise for enjoying myself on New Years Eve. If she’d had a problem with it she should have still come to see me and then talked it through, as most normal adults would. I know he felt embarrassed by her behaviour, but it’s hardly his fault – she’s long out of the playground and should know better than that.

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Monday Morning and what have I achieved so far on my ‘to do list’? Ten fifths of bugger all, that’s what.

What I have accomplished hitherto, is to replace the soap in the toilet – it would appear no one else knows how to do it, the process being in line with rocket science. There was a bit left on Friday and I know for a fact, as the door is opposite my office, that people have been in there since then. Which does make me question the level of personal hygiene of some of the staff around here.

I’ve also removed a keypad lock from one of the doors, as it wouldn’t allow anyone in. They were stood around like a flock of sheep – bleating like mad. It’s bloody amazing what you can achieve with a Phillips screwdriver and a bit of elbow grease.

I’ve rung the company that services our photocopier to get them to visit. No, I’ve not broken it this time, it’s developed a squeak. A very loud squeak – I’d go as far as to say, a very loud annoying squeak. As we’ve had a move around at work, the photocopying and stationery room is now next to my office. If they don’t come out and remove the mouse in the machine soon, I’m going to have to have a look at it myself – with the aid of a sledge hammer.

And lastly, I’ve tracked down a NHS dentist for Craig, who’s had a raging toothache all weekend and hasn’t been able to get in anywhere. This probably proved to be the most difficult and time consuming of the tasks I’ve undertook this morning – you can’t find a NHS dentist for love or money around here. Never mind twelve phone calls later and I got him an appointment for 1.15pm, ten miles away.

And now to work…

Well if I did need motivation to write, which I don’t – two stories on the go at the moment, both nearly finished – I got it last night. Just when you thought it was safe to sit down, put your feet up and watch a bit of Telly with a cup of tea and a choccie biscuit – it’s back. Yes, Celebrity Big Brother started again last night - although I think that Channel Four should be prosecuted under the Trade Description Act – celebrity is pushing it a bit. Himself, I'm sad to say is over joyed by the start of a new ... er ... series, *yawn*, I’m just horrified.

I watched the first 15 minutes when Michael Jackson’s brother, Jermaine, some football’s girlfriend who exposed all in Playboy, Danielle Lloyd, and an old film director, Ken Russell, enter the house. It was blatantly obvious that each of them didn’t have a bloody clue who the other two were. I couldn’t take any more after that – the muse beckon – and it didn’t need to ask twice. Himself will be hooked on this now until it finishes. Mind you, keeps him quiet and out of trouble.

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It would appear that certain members of our staff are having a few problems with the new electrical fittings at work, mainly in the toilet.

It started late Tuesday afternoon when Sandy came back out of the loo complaining like mad, we’d put up with weeks of disruption from the electricians and they hadn’t even fixed the lights in there. She’d been sat in the dark. Simon wander in, tried the light, and it worked first time. Unfortunately our intrepid leader hadn’t bothered with the light switch on the wall – she’d just tried the old ‘disconnected’ pull cord instead. Yes, and to think we’d follow her into hell – bloody frightening isn’t it?

Yesterday, it was Dilys’s turn. The light was already on when she went in – she spent several minutes trying to turn it off. Yes, that right – with the disconnected pull cord. Now being a bit of a clever sod, I got Simon to do the obvious – cut the flipping thing off with some scissors. They’d have to look for a switch then.

Which of course they’d do - wouldn’t they? Nah…not his lot. Craig came out moaning like mad that some prat had cut the pull cord off. Even when he jumped up he couldn't quite reach it to turn the light on. Yes, the idiot had been in there jumping up and down like a demented kangaroo trying to reach what was left of the pull cord to turn the light on.

You don’t need to set this lot up to look foolish – they can manage it perfectly well all by themselves.

OK, 'whine' warning:

Oh Gods, am I tired. I got carried away last night talking on line and it wasn’t until Himself yelled, ‘SUSAN’ (yes, that’s my full name, but the neighbours don’t need to know), ‘it’s 2 o’clock,’ did it dawned on me that in four hours time I’d have to get up again.

My eyes are sore; they feel like they’ve got grit in them and I could quite happily drop off to sleep at this very minute. That’s the trouble you see, when I start talking I lose track of time. I blame Himself – he knows this and should have shouted sooner. Fancy going to sleep and forgetting about me, that isn’t how it’s suppose to work. Good grief, am I suppose to know when to go to bed without prompts? Yes, interesting point that one – strange as it may seem, I do – must be something to do with being an adult.

And what the Bloody Hell happened to the off the computer by 11.30pm rule? Surely we can’t have it sometimes and not at other times? Yes, just what sort of Top is my husband? Is he a Top at all? Who's in charge around here? Yes, quite correct - I am.

So am I in a Discipline Relationship? Are you allowed to jump in and out of one? Do the rules remain constant for ever, change or just cease to exist? Is DP just another form of 'play'?

The more I read the stories out there, the more I question this genre and where I fit into it, the part my stories play. I’ve listen to other people’s opinions and ideas, and disagreed with a lot, but if that's what they enjoy – good for them, plenty of others enjoy it too – look at the stats counters. I will always get enjoyment out of a well written piece of work.

But - yes, here we go - you could see it coming, couldn’t you? How true to life are these stories. I sometimes think readers forget that this is the authors ‘make believe’ world. They are in full control of everything in it – it’s their fantasy. Yes - that’s right - it’s what makes them tick, they get a buzz from writing it.

I’m no different either – writing gives me a buzz.

Where’s this blog leading – I don’t know, like DP, it will be different for everyone of you. Yes, strangely enough, that’s allowed. Some of you will just read it and think no further than ‘look what happens when she gets tired,’ some of you will think very deeply and may question your own ideas, some will probably wonder if there is some sort of hidden agenda here and others will just think she’s putting her thoughts into some sort of order, I’ve seen her do that before.

New Year, new look website and new stories well underway. I wouldn’t take than too seriously if I were you - it’s my world and it’s contains a very important bit of me - my humour.

Back to it then, no peace for the wicked – and after the last week I think it’s safe to say I have joined the ranks of the damned. What a nicer way to spend your first day back at work than by running the payroll – love it. At the moment I have a total of 15 out of the 49 timesheets that I need, obviously we must pay this lot too much and they don’t need the money. Another half an hour and I’m starting without them – they’ll have to make do with basic wages again. Am I bothered? Nah, my timesheet is one of the 15 waiting to be processed.

Sage Software have sent me a new version of Payroll to install – I was tempted to do it while I’m waiting, but my common sense prevails and I’m going to leave it till afterwards, I’ve not got the energy to sort out the problems that you could guarantee would happen if I did. It’s too early in the year to tempt fate – she’s probably still got a hangover and wouldn’t be very happy about it.

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Great day yesterday, it started after I finished blogging in the early hours of the morning. Youngest son, who after welcoming in the New Year in with us and his friends, decided that they should visit all the other families and wish them the same. He came back at 2.15am with our new next door neighbours and their family, 9 in total – who he’d acquired on the way. He’s good friends with their son and was well pleased when they moved in next door.

So, at the age of 16 and ¾ he had managed to get drunk for the first time in his life. It had taken all evening and a concerted effort on his part – he’s not at all keen on alcohol. Yes, I'm sure that will change given time. He’d managed to drink a couple of Malibu and cokes and from that had progressed to a small bottle of Smirnoff Ice and lastly a can of John Smith’s. Which to be fair I don’t think he liked – he pulled a face and downed it quickly. 4 drinks in total – he’s cheap to take out if nothing else.

He rang his brother up at 3.30am to wish him a Happy New Year. He also told him he was sooo very happy, in fact I think ever other sentence spoken to everyone until he went to bed was – I’m sooo happy.

He also told Steve that he loved him – the first time in his life he’s every uttered those words to his brother. He was sat in the living room at the time with everyone around him – he told them he loved Steve too. He was the bestest brother and he was sooo happy.

He also hugged his Dad and told him that he loved him and guess what? - he was sooo happy. He will hug me and say that he loves me without being drunk – it’s just that there is usually no-one around at the time. Totally lost all his street cred I'm afraid– but it didn’t matter because he was sooo happy. Six hugs in all I got. I think that I probably got my years supply all in one night.

I got up at 10.30 and started lunch, Steve and Lu turned up at 12.00 and decided that it was only fair that they should wake Matt up. Although he was tired, he didn’t have a hangover – unlike Himself. The poor man – could I find him some tablets? Wimp! That’s the good thing about not getting drunk yourself – you can enjoy teasing everyone else. Located tablets and made him a cup of tea – see, I can be nice. Occasionally.



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Right, one more picture fatality that won't make the competition.

Not a partridge in a pear tree, but a peasant in a Seymour tree. Trouble was it was pouring down with rain and I didn’t get the focus right, OK, two glasses of cava may have help the matter.

Never mind, back to the drawing board.

Happy New Year, welcome to 2007. OK, let’s be honest – we’ll still be writing 2006 for a while yet, it never kicks in straight away.

The party is over, I’m wide awake and actually still fairly sober – I must need more practise. We spent a lovely evening with family and friends – the kids turned up, left with friends, returned with even more friends, all in all a very pleasant evening. Steve & Lu spent it with their friends and we got a phone call at 10.30 wishing us a Happy New Year, before the phone lines jammed or chutneyed. What time was New Years Day lunch they asked? Was I doing the full works? Right they'd be round about 2.00pm then. So I'm quite looking forward to that - a second Christmas dinner with just my family.

OK, first funny for 2007, start as you mean to go on. Christmas Day friend rang to ask if it would be OK to bring son and his friend for the evening. No problem, open house – all welcome. She came bearing a gift of a bottle of wine, this time a very nice vintage, gave it to me and wished me a very Happy New Year, she hoped I’d enjoy it. Very nice – it would make up for my Christmas present that they drank – I shouldn’t have thought those evil thoughts. I’m a very bad person, I should be a shamed of myself.

The evening kicked off, the recycling bottle box filled up and all had a very jolly time. Alcohol flowed and Delia’s cooking went down a treat. Eventually time for people to go home – friend and her family well oiled and well fed. Thanked me for a very nice evening they had enjoyed it. She then turned to her son and asked him to pass the bottle of wine she had brought, which hadn’t as yet been opened. She then said to me, as it hadn’t been opened she’d take it back home, it would do for another day.

I was a little gob smacked – another present whisked from under my nose. Unfortunately the little devil that has been known to sit on my shoulder whispered in my ear. I picked up the half empty bottle of hock that was sitting on the side and passed that over to her as well, saying it was what was left from what she brought along for Christmas, she should take that home too. Was there anything else she’d like? There was some sausage rolls left if she wanted then.

Tracy shot into my Dad’s room – she couldn’t keep a straight face. Thank God she didn’t laugh out loud and yes, said friend did take the hock with her. After she’d gone, Trace came back in and asked me where I’d put the George Clooney belly bar she’s given me as a Christmas present – because if I hadn’t opened it, she’d take it back – save her buying me a present next year. Cheeky cow.