Will you look at the time I’ve posted this! I think I’ve had about two hours sleep all night and if anyone upsets me whilst I’m running the payroll today I’ll probably get arrested for GBH. So errors today are down to my lack of sleep - you're amazing at just how many excuses I have for my spelling and grammar, aren't you?

I went to bed quite early for me, about 11ish and then spent till 12.30 tossing and turning, that new duvet is too thick and I was too hot. I got up, pushed the window open further and then switched the fan on. Ten minutes after that the cat comes through the window with something making a squealing noise. I shot out of bed, nearly broke my neck falling over her in the dark whilst trying to get to the light switch.

At least that made her drop her prey and the light coming on dazzled it. I’m not a 100% sure, but 80% of me reckons that the evil sod had brought a baby wren into the house. Fully feathered but not quite flying. I quickly picked it up.

So I struggled into my dressing grown, pushed my feet into my trainers – yes, absolutely stunning I looked. Just you wait and see, I’m starting a new craze. Or I’m crazy, that probably closer to the mark. I shoved the cat into the front room, unlocked the front door and walked outside. I could hear a bird calling out loud over the road. So I wandered over and put the fledgling in the long grass and left it – with a bit of luck after I disappeared it would respond to the call if it was its mother. Failing that it was well hidden with lots of bugs to eat. So let cat out of living room (she'd only scratch at the door) back upstairs, washed hands, undressed and went back to bed.

The cat then jumps on the bed and does that thing that all cats do when they want feeding – she made a nuisance of herself. Head butting me, jumping on imaginary things under the duvet, tapping my face with her paw and then, and this was the one that got me up again, started to empty the sock drawer. She has this thing about pulling drawers open; she gets her claws out and sort of scratches the sides until its open enough to squeeze her body inside. She then pushes all the contents onto the floor and goes up from inside to the drawer above and works on that one. Left to her own devises she can wreak a bedroom if the mood takes her. Easier to just get up again and feed her, anyone with any sense would have done it at the same time as saving the bird. Well I've never said I had any sense.

So I eventually settle down and drop off to sleep. I woke about an hour later to the sound of voices outside; to start with I thought it was someone shouting. The clock by the bed said it was now 2.15, so I’d been asleep about an hour. Getting out of bed yet again I looked out of the window. Full moon last night, so although it was dark I could still see the four teenagers weaving their way down the road – two boys and two girls – pissed as newts. Or whatever the saying is.

I got back into bed, I can’t believe how loud they sounded, their voices were echoing. So for the next half an hour, that's how long it look them to get from the top of the road to the bottom of the road and out of earshot range, I got to listen to them laughing, screaming, nearly falling over the step of the pavement (good save by one of the lads), trying to recite the alphabet backwards, which let's be honest takes a bit of thinking about when sober, and finally reciting their times tables. They failed at that miserably too – I don’t know what schools teach these days but obviously not the 12 x's table. 5 x 12's are 52 apparently according to them – they then all argued about this revolution and decided on something easier – the 1 x times. They still struggled badly.

Just as I was dropping off to sleep again I started hearing a tinkerly noise about every five minutes, it look me another ten minutes trying to track it down. It turned out to be Himself’s mobile telling the whole world that the battery needed charging – the whole world that is but Himself, who didn’t stopped snoring his head off all night. I wandered downstairs and found his charger and then wandered back up again and put the phone on charge – just you wait until the next time I get a bollocking over my phone.

Eventually I dropped off again, must have been about 5.30ish. The alarm goes off at 6.30 and himself very kindly wakes me up to inform me that there must be a mouse under the suitcase in the corner as the cat is sat looking at it. The little sod must have gone out of the window again and brought it back in when I dropped off to sleep. Heaven forbid that swine of a husband does something about it himself. Oh no, he just goes downstairs. I lifted the case up and the mouse shot out from underneath it like a bullet from a gun – there was no way I could catch it.

Out the door, across our small landing and through the banister railings, landing halfway down on the stairs below. The cat is younger than me, fitter than me and no where near as tired as me. She got there first.

Now from past experience Lucy is fully aware that I take all of her play friends off her, and although she may have misplaced this one for a while, no way is she letting me near it now. I’m a spoil sport after all.

Himself in the meantime decides to wind me up some more by opening the downstairs door to enquire if I want a cup of tea. Now come on, I bet everyone who has read this blog for any amount of time knows that I don’t drink tea very often and certainly never in the morning. This man has been married to be for nearly 23 years, so I can only presume he said it to wind me up and release my inner bitch.

The cat with the mouse in her mouth shot passed him into the front room and I lost my temper slightly at his sheer stupidity. The cat then let the fecking mouse go and it disappeared underneath the TV cabinet – it’s still there. It wants to see if day time television is really as bad as everyone makes out.

The stand is just too heavy to move, so I’ve left the cat on guard, she’ll catch it again eventually. Anyway, I didn’t have time to do anything about it I was in full argument with Himself over it – apparently it’s my fault for leaving the window open, I’ve been told enough times and nothing at all to do with the fact that he offered me a cup of tea. Isn’t marriage a wondrous thing?

Only 4 days left now before I fly to a sunnier or hopefully sunnier climate, not that the sun matters I’m just looking forward to the break and getting to spend some time with Scally. I just need to get around to packing the cases.

I was hoping that I’d be able to update my stories page before then, and I can at least report that I have finished one story and passed it over to the Scary Ones as Pooks has christened Scally and Chris; it all depends on how bad it is (it’s been 8 months, I’ve forgotten most of what the pair of them shouted at me about now) and whether they have time to look at it. At least it’s finished. I’m now finishing the next chapter of James and Jay; they are both overjoyed to be out of the kitchen. So even if I don’t manage an update before I go away it shouldn’t take long after my return.

Off to Birmingham this afternoon with my manager. We’re attending a bidding round meeting – I’m sure she only takes me with her so that there is someone to nudge her when she starts to fall asleep. It’s always mind numbingly boring, but we do get given lunch.

Tomorrow I’m running the payroll early. The Financial Controller was supposed to be running it whilst I was away, but is now due to go into hospital. I’ve told him that was a little on the drastic side, I know it’s a sod to run but surely he could have come up some other excuse.

And finally, all that’s left to do is introduce you to the new members of my family.

Treacle, Toffee and Fudge - they are sweeties after all.



I didn’t want any more ducks, in fact I made it quite clear that I wasn't having any more animals full stop, it was my fault that I lost my other two - but my children over ruled me and just turned up with the threesome. They said not only would I be depriving myself of a lot of love, but I was stopping an animal finding a good home. I've doubted the last bit myself. But the pain you feel at the lost is the price you pay for all the happiness they have given you. I’ll never get another duck like George or Ozzy, but animals bring their own love with them and these three have already claimed a piece of my heart. Walking passed the empty run was tearing me apart, at least now I can watch three happy ducks playing in the pool.

Treacle has a slight limp at the moment, I’ve checked him over and there is nothing badly wrong, just a pulled muscle I think. I’ve driven Himself nuts worrying about it, but he has pointed out that he’s walking on it, he’s swimming OK and without a doubt eating his own body weight in food – so there's nothing badly wrong. He's happy enough. Just needs a bit of time to heal that’s all.

Things here in Rainbow Hall have not been good. Sue has suffered the devastating lost of her ducks, George and Ozzy and those of you who have read the blog for a while will understand what that means to her. George didn't know he was a duck but rather thought that he was a dog. Ozzy fought the bit out with George in order to be top duck. They were Real Characters who have left a huge hole in her family and she is naturally distraught. So we ask you all to bear with us while we take time to regroup.



I agreed to blog today and being me got distracted so I'm late, so late that I'm wondering whether or not I should just leave this until tomorrow. But as Magnus used to say 'I've started so I'll finish.'





Friday began our Weekend Horribilis when I lost control of the car when a tyre blew out while I was going to pick up child from work. Now before you all rush to check that I'm all right, I'm fine, just a little like the way James Bond likes his martinis - shaken but not stirred. This did not amuse folk here one little bit. It was not the fact that I was speeding ever so slightly - I know it was stupid - I was late and yes, I know better late then never being able to get anywhere ever again. No that wasn't what ticked them off. It was more that I covered it not only from the Biglad but from them that got me a flea in my ear. Now, wait. I can promise you you are going to see it my way when I've finished expounding the facts.

You see, the tyre blew, the steering went doolally and I ended up sideways in the ditch at the side of the road. Yes, it was a scary moment and my arms were nearly pulled out of their sockets but all I said was 'Sugar.' I find that at moments of extreme stress my language does not become that of the navvy but rather that of a three year old. I dutifully pulled my mobile out of my handbag and rang Child to say I was going to be a tiny bit late and then the Biglad to say I'd had a puncture and could he ring the garage to come and pick me up. I am aware actually that a puncture and a blow out convey two different meanings but he was having a meeting with people who had had to catch planes in order to get together, and I WAS FINE. I know my husband - one whiff of an idea that accident prone me had struck again and he'd be out the door leaving his poor assistant struggling with his poor grasp of Italian and trying to remember who doesn't like who. So I said nowt apart from - get the garage to come and change the wheel for me, there's a love. No, it's fine - wee scratch that's all. Me, I'm grand me. Just need someone to change the wheel for me and I'll away and get the child.- Not a lie at all. A mere obfuscation. And here I would point out that I do know how to change a wheel, my arthritis doesn't allow me to.

The nice young man from the garage duly arrived and may I just say thank you to all the people who zoomed past me in order to get somewhere else quickly. A woman stopped to check I had a phone to call for help which was good of her and an elderly gentleman stopped to say he couldn't help because of his arthritis and he'd no phone but could he go and get me some help, which was sweet. The rest of the Friday afternoon traffic threatened to do me more damage than the tyre. As Sue and I both chorused later 'what is the world coming to?'

Anyway, nice young mechanic man stepped out of the van and sucked air through his teeth. 'Did you tell your husband that this was just a puncture?' and shook his head. Look, it was drivable, there was no blood and I could still speak. What is the big deal?

So, when I came home I explained to Sue that I didn't feel like going shopping because the car and me and the tyre had fallen out. No, I was fine, the car? wee scratch that's all. Because you might have realised the sort of woman she is - she'd have been looking for a flight over to make sure I was still breathing. And I spent the afternoon pleasantly trading insults and generally recovering by messing.

And then I let slip that the nice garage man reckoned that the damage done to the car would be about £600 worth. Now they're not slow here and twigged that that is not a scratch type of estimate. And then the Biglad called into the garage to thank them for coming to my aid before he came home and the nice garage man filled him in with some of the missing details.

And I spent Friday and Saturday explaining how I was right and they were wrong. They appear to think that this was a hangable selfish act while I believe that it was a selfless act. The Biglad was incandescent - apparently I'd removed his choice about the situation and claims that he would not necessarily have left work to come to the road side. Aye. Right. And even Sue's Himself waded into the argument with unhelpful remarks about sending over a tyre for me to sit on because in his opinion I should need one.

It took me to Sunday to get someone to agree with me and he'd only do so if he was allowed to see the other side of the argument as well. Fence sitter. We've all agreed to disagree now - helped along by the sympathy I needed on Saturday and Sunday when the effect of being thrown around the car kicked in and I was as stiff as a board. However, I've been assured that my argument that it's not lying when you withhold information for someones own good does not wash and apparently it does matter.

I'm sure that our readership see it my way and for once, if you don't, keep it to yourself. My ear's been roasted enough thank you.

I think I need a happier blog today. Haven’t got a clue what to write about so it will be a bit’s and pieces day I think.

But first, thank you to those who sent me kind thoughts & words, you know who you and how much I appreciated it. Also thanks to Pooks who has borne the brunt of my guilt and grief over the last couple of days. I know she must have thought that she was banging her head against a brick wall at times (there was probably a point that it crossed her mind that she ought to try banging mine against said wall, to see if that would work instead) and that I wasn’t listening to what she was telling me. I was listening and value your friendship greatly. And I once again thank the Gods who decided to smiled on me, for sending me such a special group of friends. At this particular moment in time I don’t think Pooks is feeling quite the same way ;-)

Talking of Pooks, she is doing her very proud Mummy bit at the moment. One child from the end of the queue has not only passed his exams – but passed most of them with A* and A’s. So well done.

My Dad arrives back this afternoon, he’s had a lovely time and although I shall no doubt want to eat my words in the near future – I’ve missed the old sod. He drives me mad at times with his opinions and demands but he’d still my dad and I love him.

We’re due some nice weather this weekend so I might try and talk Himself into a walk and picnic for a change, possibly Malvern. The sunshine and countryside always lift my spirits. The dogs can come out with us too.

The one good thing that came out of the last two days is the fact that I’ve cleaned the house from top to bottom, and I’ve washed and iron every item of clothing I could lay my hands on. I just couldn’t sit still, although I’ve honoured our agreement and Pooks got a complete section of JJ for her two pound weight loss. They’re out of the kitchen!

I’ve even cleaned youngest bedroom – you wouldn’t believe the amount of dirty socks to be found in that room. A washing machine full of them. I nearly hit the roof last night when I walked up stairs and found he’d left his work clothes on the bedroom floor. I didn’t; I bit my tongue instead. I just shut the door in the end. Not my room and if I hadn’t had a fit of being unable to sit still in any one place for more than five minutes, I’d never have ventured in there to start with.

Youngest contract at work comes to an end this month, so he’s off looking for another job. Unfortunately all this bad weather has done nothing for the garden centre industry, so profits are way down and they can’t afford to keep him on during the winter months. I’ve hinted at college for him, but he’s not keen. At least he’s not afraid to drive around local businesses and ask for work – so fingers crossed something will turn up.

Pictures? Haven’t taken any just lately other than a few of Eldest’s Gargoyle….

He's not ugly. I've always been rather fond of him myself.

I hate to think just how many mistakes you'll find in this, and to be honest I don't care. It hasn't been the easiest thing to write but I've shared many things here and I've always been open and honest. Those that know me would tell you that what you find here is the real me, the good and the bad, so I guess you'll have to read around the errors this time.

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I haven’t felt like blogging over the last few days. Himself’s Brother’s dog, Millie, stopped with us last week whilst they were on holiday. She’s never any trouble to look after and has always treated us as an extension of her own family. We allow her liberties that even our own dogs don’t get, such as sleeping on our bed with the cat at night. A very loving little dog with a massive personality, everyone who met her fell in love with her.

They picked her up on Saturday afternoon; she was so pleased to see them. Jumping around and walloping everyone with her stuffed toy reindeer. The toy itself was nearly as big as her. We got a call from Brother-in-law on Monday evening to say they’d taken her to the vets as she wasn’t herself, very quiet and off her food. The vet thought she’d got a virus and they wanted to warn us to keep an eye on our dogs.

Tuesday brought a phone call from my sister-in-law, she taken Millie back to the vets as she was still worried. She didn’t think it was virus and after examination the vet agreed. She was having problems breathing and her temperature had risen. The vet wanted to know if there was any possibility that she could have eaten rat poison. She’d had to ring me to ask if there was even a remote possibility.

We’d only taken her down the fields once and watched her the whole time, jumping around in the long grass; just enjoying herself. Other than that she’d only been in our garden. I couldn’t see how she could have swallowed any.

I went around and asked the neighbours if they’d put anything down, but everyone said no. Mean while Millie deteriorated further – her lungs had filled with fluid and she was bleeding internally; nothing they could do seem to stop it.

I pulled our garden apart, lifted slabs, looked behind the shed and knocked down all of the stinging nettles that were behind it. My arms were covered in an angry red rash where I’d been stung but I still couldn’t find a sign of anything. Himself came home and did exactly the same, with the same results. We couldn’t find any poison. I spoke to my brother-in-law and sister-in-law countless times, as did Himself through Wednesday and Today. The vet had kept Millie in to try and control the bleeding and make sure she had fluids. They had taken blood and were waiting for the results. On every occasion they made a point of saying that we shouldn’t blame ourselves, Millie had been fine right up to Monday afternoon. But you can’t help it, rat poison can take several days to take affect which would have meant that she’d eaten it whilst stopping with us.

Nothing they said or anyone else said made the blind bit of difference to how we were feeling, they’d left their dog with us and we should have been able to keep her safe – we’d let them down and we’d let Millie down. And worse of all we didn’t know how, how could they ever trust us again? We thought of everything, maybe Lucy had caught a mouse that had been poisoned and brought it through the window at night, Millie could have eaten it. Logic told us that wasn’t the case, Millie was a fussy eater and not at all greedy. Lucy had brought a mouse in earlier in the week and left it by Himself’s side of the bed – Millie hadn’t touched that one, why would she eat another that had been caught? But at times like that you gasp at straws, you need to find an answer.

Just after lunch time today, Himself's brother rang him to say that they were on the way to the vets, Millie wasn’t getting any better - if anything she was worse and they didn’t want her to suffer. The time had come to put her to sleep. Unfortunately they didn’t get there in time, she passed away before they even had time to say goodbye.

It’s bad enough having to come to terms with losing a pet that has had it’s full life. To think that it shouldn’t have happen is even worse. She wasn’t that old. The whole family was devastated and both Himself & I were over come with guilt.

Himself’s brother obviously knew what we were doing to ourselves because whilst my sister-in-law was still on the phone to the vet, he rang us from his mobile. The results of the blood test had come through. Millie hadn’t been poisoned, it was no one’s fault and no one could have saved her. She was suffering from a form of Autoimmune Disease. Basically her own immune system had gone astray and attacked her own body and red blood cells.

After she’d finished speaking to the vet my sister-in-law came on the phone to say once again she’d never blame us. She told us that she knew how much we thought of her dog and that if she had been poison it would have been just a terrible accident. She was only too glad that Millie had been with us last week and not in some boarding kennel – her last week had been a good one. They’d also got to spend a couple of days with her themselves before she was taken ill.

Now at least we can all grieve without any guilt attached, because although she wasn’t our dog a small part of her belonged to us. We’re going to miss her and her funny little ways. We’ve enjoyed all the times during the past years that she's stayed with us. And if anyone ever says to you that it's just an animal, you shouldn't get upset - then I would question just what sort of person they are. The love pets give you is unconditional and not something that should be viewed as worthless. Many a lesson in love can be learnt from animals, often when humans fear to tread.

It makes you realise just how fragile life is; it can be taken away so quickly and without warning. A lesson in living each day and making the most of it because you just don’t know what's around the corner.

Oh Gods, I’m bored.

I can’t do this ‘time off’ thing – after a couple of days I always get to this point. I’m bored but at the same time I don’t really have the energy or inclination to actually do anything about it, other than moan about the fact that is.

But first and foremost Montgomery Street have updated. I’ve now read all of the new stories and although I’ve tried very hard to get another snippet out of Sulya, she’s having none of it. Hard woman. You’d think she’d look after her readership better than that, wouldn't you?

So I’m still bored…..

We could play a game if you like. No, not can you see the face in the tree trunk – I’m bored with that too, although this tree reminded me of a peacock....

This game is called ‘who said that?’ Not that you lot seem to understand the concept of joining in, but here goes:

I was told ‘Go and attend to your blog then. Seeing as it's been almost a week since you passed that way.’ Yes very helpful that - but don’t let it be said I don’t do as I’m told, so here I am. I’ve blogged. Satisfied now?

The other suggestion was ‘OK, then, go and pick one thing from each room, put it on table and take some photos. Still Lifes’. So I’ve done that too:

My wooden duck, my empty Pepsi can, and Scally’s empty fudge packet. It’s her birthday soon and the fudge was part of her present, until I ate it that is. Yes, I’m replacing it – if only because she’ll really be able to thump me in two weeks time. Threats are all well and good when you know that person is hundreds of miles away – a foot away is a different matter altogether.

Pooks is back at work and rushed off her feet getting everything ready for the return of students in September, the college computer system is down so I’m unable to drive her to distraction during the day. Mind you, it could be that the computers are just fine and she’s just saying that to hide from me…

So what have I done this week so far, other than clean the bathroom top to bottom?

I have had a lovely few days with Himself and I’ll leave how we passed the time to your imagination – knowing you lot and your mucky minds you won’t go far wrong.

We did go out for the day on Sunday to Baddesley Clinton, the home of twelve generations of Ferrers since 1517. Apparently the house has remained mostly unaltered for the last 500 years. The house has 3 priest holes and during the Reformation was a haven for persecuted Catholics.

And I found a way around the no photographing inside – I brought two postcards.


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Looking through some old photographs today I found one of George as a duckling, I must have taken it one lunch time when I came home from work so that he could have a paddle.

Ahhhh, bless…

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You know, I was dared the other day by Pooks, (yes, I’ve no hesitation dropping you in it – you’ve left me to my own devises today so it’s your own fault) to warn everyone out there about the dangers of leaving your suitcase unattended at the airport. Not just unattended you understand .... more totally abandoned.

It could happen you know. You get a message on your mobile after you have walked past customs. It’s only natural that you’d put the suitcase down and answer the mobile… then continue to walk out of the airport leaving the suitcase on the floor. Good job it wasn’t blown up really.

Right, I win the bet – what’s my prize? And it better be worth it, especially when she sees what I've written here. So cough up the goodies or I could make your life even more painful than it is already.

Today is my last day at work for the next 10 days - yippee - and do I need a break. I woke yesterday with yet another headache; so I took some tablets and then went into work. Where I promptly threw up and decided it would be a good idea to go home again to try and sleep it off.

I woke up at just turned 1 p.m. with just the nagging pain over my right eye and then made myself get up and go back into work. I’d got too much to accomplish before my holiday not to.

I lasted the rest of the day and then, being Wednesday, went food shopping by myself. Himself is currently working an hour’s overtime during the week - he wants to get some money together to give to eldest towards the cost of wedding. Having time off work with his shoulder at the start of the year just about finished our savings off and it’s been an up hill struggle since then to build then back up again. Never mind we survived it and managed to cover all our bills so we didn’t get into any debt, which is the important thing.

Hence we are both in need of the break. Himself has booked till Tuesday off so we can spend a bit of quality time together, just the two of us - you can insert a wicked grin at this point if you want. At least this way we can relax a bit before we fly off to the sun. What neither of us wants is to get over there and then be ill, which unfortunately often happens when you slow down. I find that if I’m ill it usually gets me during the weekend when I stop running around like a mad thing and settle for a bit insane instead.

I got a nice surprise when I arrived at work this morning….

My manager brought it me to help me wind down and relax, aren’t I lucky? Another duck to add to my collection, at least this one won’t try and swim in the dog’s water bowl when I’m not looking and flood the utility room.

And whilst I’m planning some R & R, Pooks has returned to work today. She sent me a text earlier - apparently the computer system there is still in holiday mode and refusing to play ball with them; she now wants to be at home writing stories instead. Contrary woman that she is. I did ask her if she’d remembered her packed lunch – which is something that she can’t quite gasp the idea of. Basically the silly sod (yes, I am talking about you) manages to work all day, often without breakfast and doesn’t get to eat anything until early evening. I’m surprised she hasn’t keeled over before now. She hasn't texted me back with a 'yes' yet either.

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And finally, I do not tell lies. It serves the pair of them right for the text messages I got over the weekend. They tried their hardest to get me to bite and believe that Chris couldn't act for toffee. So you could say they got their 'just deserts' or as they went out for a bite to eat afterwards, they probably got their just desserts too.

And I didn't say I wouldn't mess with the site anymore - fiddling is one of my hobbies and I need to practise to ensure I don't lose my ability to confuse people. That's the problem, people don't appreciate the amount of time and effort I put into being this disorganised.

First things first. She tells lies you know. The woman over there. She promised me that she wouldn't play with the site any more and I go away for four days and she plays with it again. And the line about me thinking that Chris wouldn't be good was also a porky. Oh, I was worried about meeting him but I had no fears about his acting talent. No, he's not scary - he's lovely but that wasn't the point. To tell the truth if the O&OD hadn't have been with me I wouldn't have still been there in the foyer when he finished the play. He writes my favourite character - well it might be more precise to say he used to write my favourite character - and he was the first person I read here. So of course I was a bit apprehensive. Scared witless actually. O&OD thought it was hilarious and she only knows half the story.



Well, we went, we saw, I got blisters. Nine plays, two museums, one exhibition and many mugs of coffee and stuff ( OK cake) in four days. We're hard core us. I love Edinburgh all year round, O&OD only loves it at Festival. It's too grey and looming for her - and that's exactly what I love about it.



Alan Cumming in The Bacchae was amazing. No, it wasn't just because he was on stage in a short kilt and not a lot else. How very dare you! Although it certainly didn't hurt. He owns every stage he steps on and his performance was wonderful. I don't remember seeing this classic done as humorously before either so a round of applause to David Greig for his adaption. It had a number of theatrical moments which caused a collective gasp in the audience and can I just send a good slap to the ear lug of the Times Reviewer for revealing what they are. That is not what a review is for.



Macbeth outside in the dark with actors on stilts, fireworks, flames and motorbikes is probably not for the purist but I adored it. O&OD has just finished an outside performance and while she really liked it, part of her was thinking about how they got it passed the Health and Safety Regs. There are so many shows on Fringe that folk do have to spend time drumming up an audience and they spend a lot of time on the Royal Mile and around doing just that. The witches here, not content with balancing on the tallest stilts I'd seen ever also had their faces covered with a veil. The man who should have been watching out for one of them on the publicity trail, was banging away on his drum, grinning at people and led her under the traffic lights which caused her to duck sharply so as not to get a green light in the mush, only to have one of her stilts stick in the cobbles. I don't know how to swear in Polish but I think I heard her do it.

O&OD and I are both techies not thesps and when you do that you do watch things with a different eye. So yes we did notice that the lighting cues had obviously got misplaced in one show - that can be the only reason for the black stage from where the actor was emoting - it couldn't possibly be due to the actor forgetting the blocks could it? We quietly applauded the lighting op who fixed it but swore a little too audibly. And yes we did notice when one play which was supposed to take fifty-five minutes finished twenty minutes shy. The look on the Production Manager's face was priceless and the Director looked as if she was about to vent her spleen to the cast. Loosing five minutes on that timing would have been excusable but twenty - we reckon they must have missed a complete scene.

Chris was wonderful. I could leave it there but that would let the Rainbow Slider and Scally off too easily. I'm used to watching people I know act from both back stage and in the audience and sometimes, a lot of times actually, you just can't separate the person you know from the part they're playing. However, after two minutes I forgot it was Chris and he was Ed with the best New York accent, which didn't slip I might add, not even when he had to cover for his Lead fluffing his lines. His monologue was really clever and I must remind him to use it as his pick up line. It obviously was working on the man sitting behind us - his date wasn't too happy though! Although it's true he did look cute. All in all he excelled on the stage which was a bit unfortunate for his lead as the contrast in their performances did him no favours. And I'm not just being nice to him because I know him. We did mention that at one point we were going to go and wring the necks of the lighting crew who were gabbling and there was the wonderful moment when a stage strike was lit for us all to see. Techie things. But then O&OD and myself are Scary Marys as Production Managers so that's understandable.

Now I have to think of actually starting the diet we've warned you about and have to go back to work tomorrow. All good things must come to an end.

When the kids were young they used to get excited about going on holiday, although once they got to be teenagers this stopped. This is part of puberty, teenagers are physically unable to smile or show enthusiasm; if they do their face erupts in a mass of spots. You see, I bet you thought that acne was all to do with hormones.

Anyway the kids had no concept of time so ‘we’re going on holiday in three weeks’ could have meant the next day or the next month. Being a good mummy I obviously found a way around this with a chart that they could but sticky labels on.

I’ll be honest here, the kids loved the idea of the chat for about a week then they lost interest. After that it was me that placed a sticker religiously in the box ever day.

Hence……

I got bored at work on Friday and made myself a chart, unfortunately although I’ve looked every where at work I couldn’t find any stickers so I’ve had to settle for a highlighter pen instead. It’s my inner child you know.

My dad goes away for a week to Devon on Friday so I’ve booked that off work too. Himself has also booked a long weekend, Friday to Tuesday and youngest is at work. The house to ourselves – yippee!

We thought we'd try and get out for a couple of days, there is no need to rush back as youngest can feed the animals. So if the weather isn't too bad we'll make the most of the bit of freedom. I've worked out that in the next three weeks, what with the bank holiday, I'm only at work for a total of 5 days, so hopefully I won't have to spend the first few days of my holiday in the sun trying to wind down.

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I was rather pleased with this photo, I’ve taken a fair few photo’s of bees but you can’t ask a bee to pose or ‘just stand still over there’. There is an element of luck when it comes to photographing nature – this time I feel I got lucky

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Monday morning, so it’s obvious history first period. Yes, here we go again; what can I bored you with today?

Yesterday we visited two more National Trust properties: Berrington Hall and The Weir Garden.

Berrington Hall was a collaboration between Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown and his son-in-law Henry Holland Jnr. It was the last landscape garden Brown completed before this death in 1783. Interestingly the landscape was designed and completed before work on the hall began; the pool which can be viewed from the front of the house is 14 acres in size and was all dug out by hand. Spades and wheelbarrows, no JCB’s in those days.

Another interesting fact gleamed from the tour guide (Berrington Hall does a pre-tour of four rooms before the house opens to the general public and we were lucky enough to arrive in time to join this) was the land in front of the pool was divided into several sections and different animals (white hares, cows, sheep etc.) who cropped the grass to different levels, were place there. This then gave the impression when looking from the house of a patchwork effect of different colours. The photo shows that slightly.

The house itself has views over the Radnorshire Hills and into Wales, the Black Mountains can be clearly seen. The hall is designed in the neo-classical style and is based on an ancient Greek temple. The dark and foreboding exterior gives no hint of the splendour that can be found inside. The interior of the hall is breath taking, especially the marble entrance hall with its wall and ceiling decorations. Such a pity that they don’t allow photos.

Second NT property was The Weir Garden. A riverside garden created in the 1920’s by the Parr family, the house itself has been converted into a nursing home. Overlooking the River Wye, once again there are view of the Black Mountains and the Breacon Beacons and it has links with Roman Britain.





So come on then, who can see the face in the tree trunk?

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Pooks is enjoying her visit to Edinburgh and has once again taken the rain on holiday with her. Whilst I've had lovely sunshine, she’s been wet and cold. In fact, she was all for me sending her a blanket up at one point.

She did managed to get to watch Chris in his play and I’m sure we’ll hear all about her trip later this week. As it is I’ve already told Scally that I've a feeling we’re going to have to slap her. Chris will no doubt be unliveable with this week, the praise she has reaped on his head. I’m sure that one ‘really’ before the word ‘good’ would have sufficed and she didn’t have to go overboard with the ‘marvellous’ either.

She admitted to being a little worried before she went, not convinced ‘Lord Olivier’ could be that good; Chris being at the front of the queue when confidence was handed out. Coming from a thespian background she was looking for faults. But she admitted that she was completely taken in by his American accent and totally surprised when he reverted to his own Scottish one at the end.

Nice that she got to met him afterwards and spend a bit of time with him too.

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21 days till my holiday - Yippee!

Sorry, watch your feet there! There are a lot of fairies dead on the floor around here. I know you don't care about my feelings but I thought you would care about the fairies. Well, you live and learn. The fairies don't of course - live that is. Ninety - three of them have expired. Margaret saved one and the usual suspects saved a number but the rest are tatie bread! There'll be a shortage soon and then were will all those kiddies be? Looking for a pound under the pillow and finding zilch because there's no fairies left to deliver them that's where.


I'm only home for one day and the slave driver is making me blog. That'll teach her - she thought I would still be in holiday mood and wouldn't rant. Ha!

We had an interesting start to the break. Half way to the airport the Biglad realised that he had left his mobile on the window sill. It wasn't his fault - no it wasn't really - even I could see that. I mean he had one thing to remember to lift for himself. Anyone could have forgotten something. He'd made a list - it took two pages - and checked that I'd packed everything he'd thought of while sitting at lunch in work. I had. I'd even remembered those things that he hadn't thought of - like the passports. So, it wasn't his fault that he'd forgotten the one thing that was solely his responsibility; by the time we got home again to pick up his mobile it was indeed my fault because I hadn't reminded him. So, onto the airport where One and Only daughter's handbag was deemed to contain threatening material so they took it off the conveyor belt, placed it at their feet and left it there for half an hour. Meanwhile our flight was being called. I asked for the supervisor and was told that they were busy. 'Really? - that's fine - I'll just go and have her paged.' Suddenly they weren't that busy at all and when they had a second look decided that her handbag was fine actually - just stuffed to the gills with the detritus of a young woman's life really.

The taxi driver at the other end got lost as the hotel where we were staying was brand new, as was the road. In the end we were all hanging out the windows of the taxi asking passers by. Lots of Gaelic shrugs. Rang the hotel and they talked us in. Note to self - don't bother with those electronic yokes - they're useless.

Then someone at the hotel had keyed all the week's bookings in as the coming week's and they were all very confused as none of the people standing at reception matched the names for the rooms. Two cups of coffee later and we were sorted. Nothing else could go wrong. Three o'clock in the morning proved that what can go wrong, will go wrong. Who needs to smoke at three o'clock in the morning in a non smoking hotel? Someone obviously. At that ungodly hour I was woken by a very strange noise. Thumped at the Biglad. 'What's that?' 'Sounds like the fire alarm,' and he went back to sleep. All the emergency lights were on and the fire doors had all flicked into place and he was going back to sleep. I am never leaving him in charge of the children anywhere, ever again. They could have been toast. All three of the kidderlings slept through a siren that would have woken all of those fairies who have gone to a better place. There was a plus side. French firefighters are worth looking at even at three in the morning and watching the one in charge decimate the smoker made the rest of us break into spontaneous applause. You didn't need to understand all the words to understand the meaning. The grin he gave us at the applause left a lot of drool needing to be mopped up off the floor in the lobby.

The rest of the holiday only had one place to go after that and it obliged. Disney did what Disney does best and Paris did what it does best. Disney sparkled, and twinkled and provided all the ohs and ahs and Paris provided all the culture and haughtiness demanded of it.

The diet is waiting until Wednesday as the O&OD and I are off for some more culture and lots of eating in Edinburgh tomorrow. I did stand on the scales this morning - they tell lies. Please let them be telling lies.

I got a text message from Pooks last night to say how much she was enjoying the Disney Parade and all the sparkles that go with it. Sparkle mad that woman. Well to be honest she could have sent it anytime between Saturday and last night as I’d not switched my mobile on until then.

I’ve never got into the mobile phone race; I only switched it on last night because Himself wanted to know why I hadn’t answered his call when I was in Tesco. I told him that if he thought for one moment that I was going to turn into one of those hassled housewives that do their shopping with a mobile glued to their ear receiving information on what or not their family members demand they buy, he could bloody well think again.

He knows me too well does my husband. He gave me a ‘Look’ and said ‘you didn’t have it with you, did you?’ Well as it happens, I didn’t – it was by the side of the bed still attached to the charger. I’d put it there Saturday afternoon when I’d finished texting Tracy.

That didn’t go down too well; my mobile has always been a bone of contention between the two of us. He’s under the impression that I should always carry it with me in case I breakdown somewhere, a safety precaution. And I don’t think I need a mobile at all.

I gave my works mobile back a month ago now – I got fed up with getting calls on my days off asking that I sign an urgent cheque. The mobile was for when I got called out for the alarm at night – but I could use it for personal use as well. A perk of the job – considering I never really use mobiles I didn’t view the constant calls from work when I was trying to have a lie in much of a perk. Hence it went back and I claimed the £10 mobile phone allowance instead. I only gave my manager my number and she knows how I feel about calls on my day off.

Himself insisted at the time that we buy another mobile for me. He’s convinced that I’m going to run out of petrol down some dark lonely lane - I’ve promised him that I won’t molest anyone if I do, but he won’t listen. I can’t say I’ve got the hang of the new mobile yet – I’ve half-heartedly entered some of mobile numbers into it, but haven’t read the handbook or changed the ring tone to one loud enough to hear.

So it came as no surprise when I did switch it on to receive a message with the caller not identified. The message was a bit strange too. ‘What day r u back from wedding.’ There was no name so I’d not a clue who it was off. Never mind, I could cope with that - I’d just reply to the number with the original message included.

As I’ve said I’m no phone wizard – I replied all right, I just didn’t add my message to the original one, the stupid phone just sent it. So I tried again, this time I got it right and asked who the message was from.

In the meantime, in a galaxy far, far, away…..Tracy who was at work, received a text message from me asking her when she was travelling back from the wedding. What the hell was I on about now? She’s already spoken to me about that – they’d not thought they’d be able to attend as her husband is off work with a bad back. But she’d pulled strings and sorted it out, which had pleased me no end as she’s the closest I personally would have to family attending. The only child thing raises its head again.

Best text me back as I'd asked after all: ‘The same day as you, you daft biddy.’

Two minutes after she’d sent me that message, she received the original one again with the ‘who sent me this?’ added.

Convinced now that I’d totally lost the plot she decided to ring me. Of course I’ve received her returned text message in the meantime and I’m still none the wiser as to who had sent it me, God forbid they add their name at the bottom. And after all, most of Himself’s family are going to the wedding, it could be anyone. Best just ring the number and find out.

Three times we both tried to ring each other over the next 15 minutes and each time we both got the lady telling us the other person was currently on a call. When she eventually managed to get through she denied all knowledge of texting me first and I’ll be honest I thought I’d got her number entered in the mobile so her name should have come up instead of that number. So who the hell sent me the text?

She had. On Saturday.

The penny dropped eventually, she’d sent it from the travel agents when she was booking, she wanted the same flights as us. She couldn’t believe I’d only just bothered to answered it – she could have still been sat there waiting for my reply. Some bloody friend I was!

Well, at least I could remember the text messages I sent people – just what sort of numpty was she? See, it’s not just Pooks that I insult.

And I’ve just looked in my bag, I’ve still managed to come to work without it this morning, it’s on the arm of the settee.

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Still excited btw.

I’m excited. In fact: I’M EXCITED!

I’m doing the cat that got the cream impressions, the mad woman with the permanent grin on her face impression and even a fairly passable Bobby Ball 'I'm excited, Tommy' impersonation. I’m also greatly indebted to Scally, who has gone far beyond the call of friendship yet again.

We booked a week off work in September and hoped to get away somewhere nice and warm – then Son dropped the bombshell of the wedding and we had to book that with the travel agent fairly smartly, which took a large chunk of our holiday savings for this year.

Due to the awful weather everyone over here has decided to go aboard and consequently the last minute bargains aren’t bargains at all. They are still near enough full price. So it looked like we were destined to find Bed and Breakfast in this country for a couple of days. The break is important to us, I love my dad dearly but he can be incredibly demanding at times, my holiday is the one week where I’m at no ones beck and call. We just suit ourselves, no sorting everyone else out before we go out or having to get back at a certain time to make sure everyone is fed. One week a year that keeps me going for another 12 months, and it wasn’t going to happen.

But fear not – this is where Scally worked her magic. She not only found me very affordable flights but also a hotel with half board all for the price I’d have paid for one person, self catering, with a travel agent. She’s done all the leg work for me too – everything is sorted and booked.

The icing on the cake being it’s close to where she lives so I’ll not only get to met her, but spend some time with her too. Yes, that’s another threat, but she’s used to it.

So how’s that for friendship? In less than 24 hours she has turned around disappointment and guilt that Himself wasn’t having the holiday that he needs so much to I can’t settle down to work as I’m far too…..

EXCITED!

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It also dawned on me today that it was now 12 months ago I decided that I could write m/m slash and just how difficult was it to produce a web page? Yes, well, sometimes you have to learn the hard way.

It was then that I found a small group of people that have come to mean an awful lot to me; they’ve helped me move on in my life. I don’t think you can go looking for that sort of friendship – it has to happen naturally. I didn’t expect it and I couldn’t begin to put a value on it or explain how much they’ve all come to mean to me. Being an only child can be very lonely at times.

We exchange emails nearly every day and I can almost guarantee that if something has upset me or I need some support or advice I will get a response from at least one of them within 10 minutes what ever the time – how's that for a support network? They’ve put up with all of my moods and have made me laugh so much – something that I’d forgotten how to do. With them I can truly be myself – the only other person that I can be like that with is Himself.

I was talking to Pooks about this the other day and she pointed out that you don’t always get that kind of relationship with your siblings, there is no guarantee. Sometimes the important family is the one that you make for yourself and it grows up around you over time. Occasionally, just occasionally I find something that Pooks and I can agree upon.

Oooh nearly missed this – update alert.

http://www.geocities.com/elizabethmarshallstories/

Clawkit has posted not one but two new stories. I’ve not had much chance to read lately so I’m not sure when she sneaked those in, but they weren't there the last time I looked ;-)

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I think I’m suffering withdrawal symptoms – I’m missing my normal banter with Pooks. I’ve spent my whole life being the sensible, reliable one; the one that puts things right and gets things done. I've said before, although no one believes it now, I was a very quiet, shy child and never really got into any trouble, well not that I got the blame for at any rate.

So it’s nice now to occasionally forget all of that and act up, especially as we both know that we don’t mean it when we try and get one over on each other, we're obviously going through a second childhood. In fact thinking about it, I actually feel sorry for Scally who usually ends up the referee in some of our more volatile slanging matches. She’s no doubt enjoying her well earned rest. Never mind, I’m sure we’ll make up for it – does that sound threatening enough?

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Eldest called me yesterday to ask if I could spare 15 minutes to pick Fiancée up from his place of work and take her home. Her car had failed the MOT and he needed to work on it and put it through again. She isn’t very well at the moment; she’s been diagnosed with a kidney infection.

It was dinner time so I said yes I'd come straight away. Of course nothing is ever straight forward – I needed petrol for a start. Even I know that a car will only run for so long when the petrol gauge is in the red. Unfortunately I’d actually managed to go to work without my handbag (I blame the diet for this. I’d made myself a packed lunch and I’m only use to putting one thing in the car - obviously food was a priority), so I picked her up and detoured home. She popped to the loo and I collected my handbag, then I filled the car with petrol and drove fiancée home via Stourport. The traffic was horrendous, due to the bridge work and yet more traffic lights and she was desperate for another pee.

We got to about a hundred yards from their house when she suddenly swore. No, nothing to do with my driving. Her house key was with her car keys, which was currently in Eldest son’s pocket ten miles away.

So she crossed her legs and we turned around and went back again. In the end I stopped at work so she could releave herself as it was getting passed the point of uncomfortable to down right bloody painful. Then picked the keys up and drove her home again. The 15 minutes had stretched itself into an hour and I’d not had anything to eat. I know I’m on a diet but I do need a certain amount of food to keep going. Never mind what are mummy’s for?

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As promised/threatened today’s photos are of Hidcote Manor Gardens. Here is a brief history - spot the mistake.

You’ve all heard of the myth of the Elephant’s Graveyard; a mythical place where older elephants instinctively go when they reach a certain age. They then die there alone, far from the group. Well I can tell you that the Mice’s Graveyard is no myth, I know exactly where it is and have seen it with my own eyes - although they don't go there to die alone as they get a helping hand or should I say paw.

It’s the roof outside my bedroom window. I kid you not - I had Himself leaning out of the bedroom windows with a broom in his hand trying to sweep the mass of bodies onto the floor so we could dispose of them in a more fitting manner i.e. the dustbin. 11 died mice he counted. I reckon that for every three mice I’ve saved over the last couple of weeks, one more hasn’t been granted asylum. No, it’s safe to look, I didn’t take any pictures – it wasn’t a nice sight, although I notice there is another one there this morning.

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Busy weekend, we visited two National Trust properties and also the travel agent to book our flight and apartment to Pefkos, Rhodes, for May next year. Eldest and Fiancée have set a date for the wedding, booked the chapel and both families are all set for a fun packed week together. Ha ha. Yet another reason, along with the knee and awful indigestion that I get to stick to the diet.

The Best Man, Eldest’s best friend since they met at Playgroup at the age of three came with us to book - he wants to travel with us. The happy couple have to be in Pefkos 8 days before the wedding so they are having a Pre-honeymoon instead. We all get to spent the last week together.

Best Man’s mum was my friend Wanda, who passed away suddenly when he was only seven due to a brain aneurysm on New Year's Eve, thirteen years ago now. I made a promise at the graveside that I would always be there for her son and I hope that I’ve for filled that pledge.

Many a time Best Man’s Dad has rung to say he was missing because something had upset him. To start with we all used to get into our cars and drive round trying to find him – we stopped doing that once we worked out that every time it happened you could guarantee that 10 minutes afterwards he’d be knocking on Eldest’s bedroom window - no, never the door, that became a joke after a while. He’d then stop the night, I’d mother him silly and the following morning everything would be fine again.

I have the greatest respect and admiration for Best Man’s dad. He was a firefighter at the time of his wife’s death and had to give up his career, the risks were too high to carry on, even through it was something he'd wanted to be since he was a child. He put his life on hold in a lot of ways and made sure that he did his very best for his two children. They are both a credit to him; I know that Wanda would be very proud of all of her family.

Anyway, getting back to Saturday and the booking - I managed to embarrass the poor kid without thinking. He’d previously decided that he wanted a studio apartment and didn’t want to team up with someone else and share. Now the travel agent gave us a list of options we could request, you know - pool view, lower floor etc. He’s a good looking 20 year old – I just automatically assumed that asking for a double bed was a good idea, you know, just in case he pulled. I’m not sure who went the redder – the young girl taking the booking or the best man - it wasn't me at anyrate.

He said afterwards that it reminded him of when I used to drop them off at High School. Having an evil streak I used to turn the car around, wind my window down and as I drove past I'd start blowing kisses and shout ‘Bye, love you.’ Of course once they started doing it back it wasn’t half as much fun.

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So to the first NT property we visited, you'll have to wait for tommorow for the other – today it's Snowshill Manor House. Yes, here we go, another history lesson!

The manor was originally owned by the Abbey of Winchcombe until the dissolution of the monasteries in 1539. Since then it’s had many owners and by the time Charles Paget Wade brought it in 1919 it was a semi-derelict farmhouse. Here he started to amassing a collection of objects that reflected his interest in craftsmanship. Once again no photographing allowed inside the house, which is a shame as there is an impressive collection of English, European and Oriental furniture, musical instruments, craft tools, toys, clocks and bicycles as well as a room full of manikins wearing Japanese Samurai armour, which is actually a bit spooky.

It's bad enough people sitting on benches when I'm trying to take a picture, but messing with their feet. How bloody inconsiderate!

I'm feeling magnanimous this morning because I won yesterday's argument with the Rainbow Slider. This is a very rare occurrence for me to win anything around here - bottom of the pile me usually. So in the spirit of magnanimity I'm going to be nice to you lot and give you a heads up. Just because you're all so good and come and chat to us an'all. (That was sarcasm just in case we were unclear there.)

This is a health warning. The woman who harbours the mistaken belief that she is a Goddess and I - the good one - may be a teensy, tiny bit narky and snitty in the coming weeks. We're doing this thing that apparently is being done at this very moment in time by at least 50% of the women in the UK. We're being told be all and sundry that we should do it. Himself and the Biglad are quite keen on the idea of the results but both know better than to say it out loud. Our respective doctors would be doing the hoopla if they knew we were doing it. We've done it before - many, many times and in many many varieties. People have written books about it.

Yes, we're going on a diet.

The Biglad has had to be coaxed out of the wardrobe with a glass of wine and a promise and Himself was last seen running across the fields, accompanied by the cat, the dogs, the birds and even yon frog. Because they, dear readers, know what is in store. Oh, they want us to do it for very obvious reasons,( oh do keep up!) - our health. What on earth did you think I meant? I've had arthritis for too many years to count now - 11 actually since I was 34 - yip young wasn't I, and the Rainbow Slider needs to take some pressure of her knee so she can keep up the walks that help her depression. Soooooo. We're declaring it to you all. We, her and me, are on a diet. We're not declaring what the scales said - some things are better kept between yourself and the Man Upstairs but we will keep you up to date with the progress. And yes, being us, we'll probably bore you all to tears with it but we're thinking of an incentive programme. Obviously I'll go shopping but as you know that's an instrument of torture for Iris. So for those of you who write, care to do a paragraph per pound for us? It would keep us on the straight and narrow and you would get incentive to write. It's a win win situation. Noooooo?! You're mean you lot.

I'm on holiday next week - in the land of croissants and pain au chocolate followed to a visit to the Shortbread City. So, she's obviously going to win the competition for the next two weeks - of course we're in competition with each other!

I’m sorry I can’t possibly blog today I’m in hiding, or about to receive one if she manages to get her hands on me that is. If I stay on here too long she'll track me down - very resourceful the Irish.

I received several threatening emails late last night just because of my helpful nature – which isn’t appreciated by some. Shocking I know. You know me after all - no, scrub that last bit, it will be used against me. I was only doing my job. Did I not stated very clearly yesterday that I'm meant to send messages? How the hell can you get into trouble for just doing your job? It's in my Job Description after all.

And the Cat and the Frog have been deeply traumatised by current events – the Frog is currently hiding under a stone refusing to come out for fear that she’ll glitter him and he’ll then turn into a Princess and not the regulatory Prince and the Cat? Well, she was that upset that she brought a mouse home last night for a drink and shoulder to cry on and forgot to announce her arrival through the window. She put the mouse down for just a moment and now can’t remember where exactly – somewhere *waves a paw vaguely* over by the wardrobe.

So normal service will be resumed once Herself has had chance to calm down and return to her normal? good humour. Today we just have intermission photographs, oh and if she asks - you've not seen hide or hair of me.

I'm not here to blog. I'm just here to deliver a warning to you lot. 'Beware the Ides of March.' Oh no sorry, wrong tragedy. This warning involves the Rainbow Slider woman. She may not even appear today as according to the cat she has left the country to go into hiding and may be away for a very long time. However I feel the need to warn any of you who are under the mistaken belief that she is an upstanding, trustworthy type of a woman. She's not. She's a twisted, sleekit article who deserves a thump. She has just sold her cat down the river rather than put her hand up and accept the slap that is so obviously her due. 'The cat typed that, nothing to do with me.' Really - she expected me to believe that! She claims to adore, love and worship the said feline so I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her if I were you. And as I have arthritis in both wrists that isn't very far at all. At one point in last night's screaming match she even wheeled in the frog from yesterday. I have informed the RSPCA and have already offered the cat and the frog sanctuary - don't all rush to the phone. So don't say I didn't warn you. You should be especially wary when she claims to be doing nothing. That's when you should be afraid - really, really afraid.

I think I need to complain to someone higher up – I was bloody sure that I was suppose to be the Goddess of the Rainbow, messenger of the Gods; which in this day and age with emails and the such like, isn’t that taxing. No where in the job description does it mention that I’m the Patron Saint responsible for saving all small creatures from the cat.

I mean, I’m fairly use to the mice and voles – even the little Blue Tit of happiness, who’s freedom I battled for last week wasn’t too much trouble – but frogs? Look, granted it’s been rather wet around these parts of late but we’ve no ponds locally so where the hell did the Killer Queen find a bloody frog to bring home?

I’m sure that all that glitter has got to her – she thinks she’s a fairy godmother now and is trying to bring a frog prince back home. It left me with a bit of a problem as I’ve got to the stage now that I just open the front door and drop whatever creature I’ve saved on the front step, I could hardly do that with the frog.

It wasn’t that late as it happens about 12ish and Himself had only just come to bed, booting me off the computer in the process, but he wasn’t going to get up again was he? His response to the visitor? ‘Just chuck it out of the window.’ Hardly a member of the RSPCA. In the end I got dressed again – yes, learnt that lesson – and with a torch in one hand and the frog in the other, wandered down towards the fields.

Just as I was about to go through the hedge, the field in front of me lit up. No it wasn’t a remake of Close Encounters of the Third Kind - although it scared me half to death; it was the farmer on his tractor. Yes, turned 12 O’clock at night and the bloody idiot is cutting the hay ready to combine the next day. Thank the Gods I never actually got inside the field and that I’d bothered to get dressed first.

I dumped the frog in the ditch and legged it home bloody quick – only to find not only Himself but also next door leaning out of the bedroom windows to see what was going on. I didn’t bother to get embarrassed, after the quails they know what I’m like; my reputation precedes me – but they didn’t really need to take the Michael and ask me if I was now having frog legs for tea tomorrow, it was uncalled for. Himself has a big mouth.

I moaned to Himself about inconsiderate farmers only to be told that with the weather the way it was of late I should be feeling sorry for him. A lot of farmers were doing the same thing; they had to make the most of the dry weather and if that meant working through the night, they would. No I didn’t feel sorry for him – he kept he awake most of the night – unlike Himself who snored for all his worth.

Hence I switched the alarm off this morning and promptly went back to sleep. There were two lots of road works, with traffic lights on permanent red that then made my 5 minute journey into a 25 minute one and to top it all - its payroll day. Never mind the bloody farmer – I demand that everyone starts to feel sorry for me.

And I’ve got to go shopping tonight :-(

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Black and white pictures today …