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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Barman says: "No."

Duck says: "Got any bread?"

Barman says: " No."

Duck says: "Got any bread?"

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

Duck says: "Got any bread?"

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

Duck says: "Got any bread?"

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

Duck says: "Got any nails?"

Barman says: "No."

Duck says: "Got any bread?"


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

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

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

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

Keep guessing.

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*Warning ~ Moaning Ahead.*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyone with a sensitive nature - stop reading now.


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

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

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

Then a Scotsman throws him a set of bagpipes.

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

“What’s wrong – can ye no play it?”


The Octopus replies:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goosey, Goosey Gander!

Malvern Hills

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

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

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

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

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

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

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And so to Sunday…

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

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

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

.

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

Be still my beating heart!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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





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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And talking of which....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I had an email from Carol yesterday *waves* asking what a conker is. That’s the third person from the States to ask me that - it’s the seed from a Horse Chestnut Tree - http://www.woodlands-junior.kent.sch.uk/customs/conkers.html I just took it for granted that everyone would know, which just goes to prove how much research I do for my stories – none what-so-ever *grin*

I’m sorry you lot haven’t experienced the joy of being the proud owner of a ‘sixer’. When I was writing Conkers, Scally mentioned they used to soak conkers in vinegar, I used to put mine in the oven. According to this website that’s considered cheating – yeah, well, who cares as long as you smash you opponents conker to smithereens!

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So I’ve hit the big time *smug look*. My friend Craig has actually sent off to Kodak for some prints of my photos. David Bailey must be quaking in his boots – I’m sure he recognises competition when he sees it. OK, his prints may cost more – but at 19p per print and £1.30 P & P – mind are an absolute bargain! He's decided to get in early before fame makes me big headed and unapproachable.

Craig's always asking me for my signature too – Yes, OK, on a company cheque, don’t be so bloody picky – even David Bailey had to start some where.

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My friend Trish is back on-line after upgrading to broadband. Hooray! She moved down south over a year ago and I’ve really missed her. She’s the only person I’ve ever worked with that had a louder laugh and a bigger bust than me. We used to have great fun at staff parties – Trish is one of those really organised people – she carries a corkscrew in her bag for a start. She had two leaving parties – everyone went to the first, and just a small handful of us to the second. It was held at a 'select up market' restaurant – God in own knows what Sandy was thinking when she booked that one! The writing was on the wall before we ever got there.

It was a lovely night and we said goodbye in style, we also got through rather a lot of wine – one couple, who were indulging in a candle lit dinner asked to be moved because of the raucous laughter that was coming from our table. That did quieten us down for a little while and we apologised. They were very nice about it – the poor man had been trying to propose – so we had a glass of champagne with them to celebrate.

At the end of the night we were all a little bit worse for wear. When we stood up to leave, Tom pulled Trish’s chair back for her, he’s such a gentleman. Unfortunately that was the exact moment Trish’s leg’s decided that they’d had enough and went on strike. She took one step back and collapse gracefully to the floor. We couldn’t stop laughing. Tom and I did try to help her to her feet, but it was a lost cause. We ended up holding onto each other with Trish still on the floor by our feet because we were laughing that much it hurt and we could hardly stand up ourselves by that stage. It’s must have been nearly ten minutes later before we all managed to pull ourselves together. Trish’s husband, who'd come to collect her, took control and got her to her feet again - she didn't stop giggling to herself until she went to sleep in the car on the way home.

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er… you know when you see something and it makes you think of someone – but you can’t say who because that person would bend your ear if you did.

Well…whilst shopping last night I couldn’t help but notice that the new Warner Bros film, Happy Feet, is advertised everywhere. From toys that dance to birthday cakes, from computer games to chocolate bars.

*looks around* - now for God’s sake don’t say anything to him – but here’s the link - Tesco had hundred's of the things:

http://www.johnlewis.com/Nursery/Baby+and+Pre-school+Toys/Baby+and+Pre-school+Toys/Soft+Toys/217/230395111/Product.aspx

With a bit of luck, he'll be way too busy at the moment to even read this.

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Scally has started to ask questions about the next James and Jay story. So far I’ve asked her about the weather - she answered my question and then asked again about the story. I’ve tried to side track her by telling her about this amazing picture of fungus I'd taken:

But she's a hard woman to throw off the scent - I don’t think it’s going to work.

So thank you, Scally, I knew I could rely on you to inspire and motivate me, help get me get back on track, so to speak – I'm going to start writing again tonight.

*Walks away muttering under her breath*

Bloody Beta’s - flipping task master's the lot of them - 'Ahem-ing' and 'FULL STOP-ing' like it's going out of fashion - *pout*

Himself was moaning last night about how hot and stuffy the bedroom was and did we really need the central heating turned up that high. So I struck my feet on him. The last time he moved that fast there was a spider crawling across the top of the sofa just behind his head. There was no need what-so-ever to use that sort of language either and why on earth would I what to wear a pair of socks when I can warm my feet up on him?

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I spent an hour playing with my website – I’ve discovered that I can add animation - Yipee! I’m certainly not adding the next part of James and Jay, which is proving to be a bit of a bugger to write. I keep trying things out, then thinking – nah…that’s not right and deleting it. To me this couple have got to be realistic – I mean they’re hardly likely to just jump into bed together. I’m pretty sure that not all gay man are at it like rampant rabbits on viagra as soon as they clap eyes on each other. I’m even surer that these two wouldn’t have the traditional story type D/P relationship – Jay is way too sure of himself to let James tell him what to do or not to do – so there you have it, my excuse for not posting the next installment. If you don't like that excuse you can choose between - isn't that an interesting picture, now how do I make it even more amazing, I needed to finish a game of Chuzzle or I had to feed the cat. Take your pick, there's something for everyone there.

The Gloria Pitzer’s quote just about sums me up:

Procrastination is my sin.
It brings me naught but sorrow.
I know that I should stop,
In fact I will – tomorrow!






Sunday's Sunset







I haven't changed either of these photos, the sky really was that colour. I did find out how to adjust the light settings on the camera - Yes, I could have read the instruction book but where's the fun in that.





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There was only one problem with sleeping away the best part of Sunday – the ironing didn’t get done. Now I think it’s fare to say that if you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time, you’ll have already worked out that I’m not the sort of person who pairs up socks or irons underpants - but even with that said I still had nearly two basket loads to get through last night. My Nan taught me to iron and I quite enjoyed it when it wasn’t something I had to do. I’ve even passed on this skill to both of my boys – I believe in equality – that and the fact I refuse to iron three shirts because someone can’t decide which one they want to go out in.

I wouldn’t let Himself anywhere near the iron – I learnt the hard way with the tumble dryer. He managed to shrink my best dress down three sizes – Steve was only a toddler at the time and I couldn’t afford to replace it – I was absolutely gutted, it’s wasn’t as if I had a wardrobe full of clothes - did I give him hell for that one!

It was the same with an expensive bottle of perfume I been brought as a 21st birthday present – I kept it for special occasions and with money being so tight, there wasn’t a lot of those. I found Steve covered in the stuff – along with the bedding and carpet – the bedroom absolutely reeked, the bottle being empty of course. I’m not sure who cried the most, Steve because I shouted at him or me for the lost of something I couldn't afford to or justify replacing.

Ah, Kids - Don't you just love them!

I got Himself to look at my back this morning – it felt sore. Apparently there’s a long scratch going across it. No *rolls eyes*...not from a night of wild passion, it's a gift from the cat. I often go to sleep on my stomach and she then lies on top of my back – she’s got very loving lately, and is never far from me - she's sat watching me type this. I’d really like to think that it’s because she adores me, but as anyone who is owned by a cat will tell you, it more to do with who feeds her. She must have dug her claws in when I turned over. Himself has now barred the 'bloody thing' from the bedroom – I very diplomatically failed mention that it's him that doesn't shut her in the front room at night, not me and, not one word did I utter about him moving his hand under the duvet to get her to jump on it.

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Out of the blue, Simon asked me yesterday if I’d lost some weight – he’s now my most favouritest work colleague and I’ll willingly share my McDonald fries with him.

I think it’s fair to say I’ve participated in my share of diet’s and what a lot of good it's done me! Slimfast – Yuck, I didn’t like the shakes. Weight Watchers – meals cost a fortune and I was still hungry after I’d eaten. Rosemary Conley – actually, to be fair, I lost well over a stone on that one, but put it all back on again - and a bit more besides - when the depression hit. I’ve come to the conclusion that I might as well get rid of all my size 12’s – I’m never going to get into them again, other than in my dreams *sigh*. Even if I do manage to lose some weight my bust is still going to figure largely in the equation – it appears around the corner a few seconds ahead of me as it is – so I might as well just accept the fact and give in gracefully, or gracefully as possible at any rate. I blame it all on water retention now.

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I see Jamie Oliver is no longer the golden boy in the news at the moment – he’s gone from being the best thing since sliced bread to the reason why children don’t want school dinners.

I loved school dinners and puddings. Suet pudding, little igloo shaped mash potato, pink custard, sponge with icing and hundred & thousands on the top – not all together mind – I wasn’t such a fussy eater during my time at primary school. I usually ate whatever was put in front of me – other than Tapioca *pulls a face*– better known as frog’s spawn. I can remember one dinner lady refusing to let me go and play until I’d eaten it. No way was I touching the stuff, so I pretended to go to sleep at the table. Another dinner lady carried me up to the classroom and placed me on the beanbags by the Wendy House – I waited 10 minutes, which to a five year old was a very long time, then got up and went out to play.

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I was sneezing, coughing and sputtering yesterday in my office when a male voice shouted out from the adjoining room asking me to die a bit more quietly. I have to say that there was a distinct lack of sympathy and concern coming from certain co-workers – I had to make my own Lemsip, for a start. Craig then pointed out that they couldn’t possible come near me – my cold would genetically modify itself in to 'man flu' if they did - Huh, wimps!

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And today’s pretty picture is what happens when you take a picture of mushrooms, cross it with a book you purchased from a car boot sale...










... and then click on the Kaleidoscope Button in Paint Shop 7.

Pure Genius! *grin*







To be honest I was trying to motivate myself to continue writing the next part in James & Jay series – but using my natural talent of finding something much more important to do – I only managed to complete a couple of paragraphs :-(

It's foggy here this morning.




*sniff*

I've still got a cold - it's now affecting my voice as well. I start to talk and half way through a sentence my throat constricts and I end up coughing, it's so bloody annoying - I like talking!

So it's going to be quiet at work today, they'll all think they've gone deaf. Thank goodness I've got no interviews to undertake. I interviewed a man on Friday that had turned up and left his personality at home, if he had one to start with that is. It was so warm in the room that I my eyes were watering as I tried hard not to yawn. Every time we asked him a question he started his answer with: Well, I don't know, I've no experience of that, I suppose.... - it was like pulling teeth - had he even read the job description? I hadn't had anything to do with the drawing up of the candidates and I was only interviewing this one because Simon had to go to a contract meeting, but it did make me wonder how he'd got to the interviewing stage.

*Achoo*

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I didn't really do much yesterday - other than nodding off to sleep. We did visit my mum's & Himself mum's graves and took some flowers. I don't visit my mum's grave as much as I use to, at the beginning I went up everyday - I think part of me was trying to find her, stupid through that sounds. When the undertaker took her body away the house felt different - so empty, difficult to explain. It left a void that you could actually physically feel. As time passed and I started to accept that she wasn't at her grave - she'd told me often enough when she was alive after all. She spoke openly of death, it wasn't something to be feared - she kept drumming home the fact that once she'd gone her body would just be an empty shell and no use to her want so ever, not that it was much use to her now, she said. If she was anywhere it would be with us, especially if we needed her and not waiting for us to visit her in some graveyard. It took time after her passing to accept that, but I have and although I like to keep her grave tidy and with flowers, to me it's just a place of remembrance now - a sure sign that I've move on.

Himself's mums ashes are buried with her parents. The original church was destroyed in a storm in 1976, I think it was struck by lightening and caught fire, but don't quote me on that, I was only 11 at the time. They built the new church inside the shell of the old one. It's still an amazing building and some of the graves date back to the 1700's. Quite a few of Stanley Baldwin relatives are buried there. Just before she died Himself's mum told me she used to work as a maid for Mr Baldwin in Bewdley, and how nice his wife was. When I questioned my sister-in-law about it, she showed me a old photo of my mother-in-law outside the house, that she'd unearthed whilst researching the family tree.






















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*cough*

Youngest son announced on Saturday night that he was going to Worcester on the bus to watch a firework display with his girlfriend. I asked who else was going with him, because no way was he travelling to Worcester by himself on a Saturday night - too many drunks could be lurking and it wasn't safe as far as I was concerned. He declared that he was going by himself and meeting her at the bus station. We ended up having a ten minute discussion - sounds a hell of a lot better than argument - about him not being a baby, that he was old enough to go by himself, that he could take care of himself, and even more importantly - he hadn't seen his girlfriend for over a week and he missed her, etc.... you get the drift.

Eventually we agreed on him catching the bus there and letting me pick him up afterwards - and believe me that was a hard fought battle - no wonder I colour my hair! Ten minutes later a group of his friends called and he instantly changed his mind, he was going to the club to play darts instead - so much for him missing the girlfriend then. Why me? They don't bloody well tell you about this at antenatal class!

*sniff *

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Is it just me – and I’ll willingly admit to being inquisitive, it sounds a hell of a lot better than nosey - but does anyone else follow the links from one blog site to another. I find it really interesting; you can end up in China before you know it. I was talking to Nicole about it – and she said it felt a little like snooping, but she’s done it anyway *gasp*. I personally don’t have a problem – a lady called Cheryl, going back about a month, left a link to her blog in a comment box. I was never sure whether she’d linked from my website or from Blogger. If she’d linked from Blogger and then clicked on the link to my website she must have got a bit of a shock :-P

I would never leave a comment - unless I knew the person or had contact with them first via e-mail, but I don’t mind mooching. As my blog site is linked to my web page, I’d hope that people would feeling they could comment if they wanted to – of course, as the cloud picture proved, that’s probably not going to be the case.

*sneeze*

I’m couldn’t post earlier, Blogger was having a funny turn, being prissy as Chris would say – it wouldn’t let me write anything. It just kept apologising for the problem, that engineers have been notified and would work to resolve it. Yeah OK - I believe you, many wouldn't.

I woke up this morning with a sore throat, runny nose and a headache - so after doing my dad’s shopping and a quick tidy up I went back to bed. I just couldn’t get warm – I’d turned the central heating up and put a throw over the duvet – but still felt frozen. I’m going to be doing a Maggie Simpson in a snowsuit impression tonight, but without the dummy - I'll have a glass of wine instead.

Actually, it’s a shame it’s not nearer to Christmas – I could dress up as Rudolph – I’ve got just the right sort of nose!

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I read this on Yahoo News on Friday:

An MP has warned the public not to light fires in their gardens this weekend, branding Bonfire Night "an environmental disaster". In the wake of the Stern report, Labour's Barry Sheerman said people had to recognise the connection between their actions and the planet's future. He said: "Too many people will pussyfoot around because they think it's part of their heritage to have a bonfire in the back garden and burn a Catholic on it.

It really worried me - where the hell was I going to find a Catholic to burn at such short notice?

I can’t help thinking that it may have read slightly better if he’d have used the word effigy in that last sentence. Of course the gentleman in question will never have attended a bonfire display in his life, let alone lit a bonfire in his garden - I’m just waiting for the newspaper pictures of him stuffing his face with a hotdog while watching a firework display.

Don’t get me wrong, I do think Global Warning is a problem and that we should all look at ways of averting it. But it’s idiots like that - that spout off without thinking what they are actually saying, jumping on the band wagon for their 2 minutes of frame - that piss me off. Yes, I know Andy Warhol said: In the future everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes – but this guy doesn’t deserve that long, 2 minutes is more than enough. I wonder what sort of car he drives?

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Now I know you're all thinking I only did it as it's part of my heritage - and I'd hate to disappoint you - but I’m afraid I was just out to enjoy myself with my family and friends on Friday night and we didn’t have a bonfire, just fireworks to pollute the atmosphere - I couldn't find a Catholic willing to sit on the top of mine, so I didn’t bother in the end. I did take the camera, but unfortunately I kept missing the shot. My camera has a slight delay – so I’ve got a hell of a lot of black photos *grin*. I can’t be perfect all the time – yes, hard to believe I know. Some that I did get –







That's £20.00 up in smoke!

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Actually, I’ve just got back from an organisation firework display tonight – This time I did a little bit better.

And not a Catholic in sight!

Taking to Scally yesterday about the funny things children say reminded me of the time Stephen asked my parent's next door neighbour for a sprig of mint. The gentleman in question grew every kind of herb in his garden and was always passing them on to his friends and neighbours. Mr Mantle asked Stephen how much he wanted. Stephen pondered on the question for a few seconds and then declared that he would need a lot. Why's that, Steve? asked Mr Mantle, 'cause we've got a lot of potatoes, was the reply.

I can also remember finding Matthew sat in the fish tank, which was on a low table at the time. I'd only gone in the kitchen to put the washing machine on. He must have been about 2 or a little older possibly. When I asked him what he was doing - he told me he was swimming with fishy fingers. Unfortunately the poor fish wasn't swimming at all, it was gasping on the floor. I'm surprised it lived, but it did and for a good few years afterwards.

My mum told me that she found me putting potatoes down the toilet when I was small. I didn't walk till I was about 18 months - I got everyone worried. I'd done the round of professionals, mainly because they weren't sure if I'd suffered brain damage during that traumatic birth - but basically I was just lazy - no comments needed on that one, thank you very much. I could get around just as quickly by tucking my leg under me and scooting around on my bum, I didn't need to walk. We lived in a row of cottages at the time and she used to keep the sack of potatoes in the bathroom, which was downstairs. She's shut the door and because I wasn't walking thought it was safe. Big mistake - it was obviously just the incentive I needed. I'd nearly filled the toilet to the brim before she'd noticed and then walked over to her carrying a potato in my hand. She was just ecstatic that I was walking, it hadn't dawned on her at that particular moment that I could now reach things I couldn't get to before.

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I've just remembered something else my mum told me - but this time about the dog, a black and white spaniel called Paddy Paws. Dogs in those days could pretty much go where they wanted, without the owner. She answered a furious knocking on the door to find Mr Hopcroft, a next door neighbour, demanding that she remove her bloody dog from his garden. At that very moment Paddy wandered past with a daffodil sticking out of his mouth - which he then sat in front of the fire to finish eating. Apparently he had bitten the heads of every single flower in Mr Hopcroft's garden. Mum was horrified and couldn't apologise enough - Mrs Hopcroft found it extremely funny even if her husband didn't see the funny side until a lot later.

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For those of you that also read Chris's blog - please note that I have refrained from making any comments about his interest in 'knockers'. Heaven forbidden I lower the tone when he's having one of his cultural moment :-p

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Scally sent me the link to this funny the other day - she finds some great one. I meant to publish the link yesterday but forgot. It certainly made me laugh - thank God I didn't go to university!

http://www.stupidity.org/video/1009

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Let’s play a new game today, it’s called: I wonder who hasn’t taken the library books back? Yes, it’s difficult one that – you’ll never guess. As I was waiting for the computer to start up this morning I started to look through ‘Teach Yourself FrontPage’ and noticed that the renewal date was 23rd October – surely to God, it’s never been that long! I would go on-line and renew them now, but the card is downstairs and I’m upstairs – I’ll do it when I get to work – hopefully.

Wages day yesterday and once again the idiots I work with have invented new ways to ensure that a simple straightforward process is made as difficult as possible. One of these days I really am going to think ‘stuff it’ and pay them what they’ve claimed for instead of what they are due – it will save the company thousands.

It's always hard to get back into it after taking time off - I was ready to go home by 3.00pm, but made myself stay. I just played Simon up instead, you'd really think that by now he'd be wise to me - sucker! The devil makes work for idle hands, and all that malarkey. It's hardly fun any more - it's no longer a challenge. It can be as simple as changing the left/right click on the mouse settings on the computer - Simon was on his hands on knees under the desk fiddling for ages. I'd been sat at his desk just minutes before hand and he still didn't click (Ha Ha) onto the fact - and he's worked with me for over nine years now. I have learnt from my previous mistake and only play jokes on the people who can take them - the very same group of people that will return the favour.

We used to have a lot of fun when the company consisted of the 5 of us. Our manager at the time didn’t really have a great sense of humour - miserable cow - but we basically just ignored her, like the time we told her we were going to paint our office. OK, she said, as long as it was a workable colour. So we stayed behind one evening and covered the walls and Tom - who got more paint on himself than the wall - with a lovely bright terracotta that funnily enough she didn’t like – kept her away from us mind. She complained that it was too bright - she didn't have a reflection in the mirror either.

Then there was the time Julie brought a melon in for us all – we were on a healthy eating thing at the time. It wasn’t quite ripe so she put it in the window and religiously turned it everyday. One morning it was declared ready to eat and agreed that everyone would come back at dinner time for a slice. Whilst they were out I printed off a face on the computer, along with hands and feet, and a speech bubble – inside I’d typed: ‘Help, Help. I’m been held captive by a group of cannibals and they are going to eat me!’ It was great watching people faces as they walked passed the window – we were on a main street at the time - it always good to spread a little happiness. Both Julie and Tom have now moved on, only the three of us left from that group - but I still have the cartoon that Simon altered for me on my wall.

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When Himself came in from work last night he announced that as I had, had a couple of rough days over the weekend he’d brought me a present to cheer me up. Isn’t that romantic – whatever could it be? A box of chocolates? – noooo. A bunch of Flowers? – noooo. You’ll never guess, he said. To right I wouldn’t – never in a month of Sundays would I have thought of a box of Fireworks! Now, this has distinct similarities to that Christmas present I told you about – the tape recorder that I never got to play with on Christmas day because my dad was enjoying himself with it too much. I casually asked where we could set them off – Billy is terrified of fireworks, so we couldn’t do it at home. Not a problem, he’d already sorted it – we could go to Mick’s mum's house. The lady in question is knocking on 97 – did he really think it was a good idea? Yes, she was looking forward to it – and from the way he was looking at the contents of the box – so was he. Just think, he said, I’d be able to take loads of photos – while he, of course, could play at Guy Fawkes.

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We had our first frost this morning – not a bad one – but most definitely time to start wearing jumpers again.

We visited Bourton in the Water, in the heart of the Cotswolds yesterday. I had very vague memories of it when I went as a Brownie – the only thing I could remember was the little bridges that crossed the stream. They were still there, along with the traditional Cotswold houses – it hadn’t changed that much. We paid a visit to Birdland – and watched the penguin feeding time.

Just for Chris - in case he needs more research material on how to be a Penguin!

There were some amazing sculptures of birds and insects made from Motor parts and scrap metal. Just a nice relaxing day all in all.

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We had about twenty Trick or Treater’s last night – although one of them didn’t count. Josh’s little sister turned up twice - the first time with Matthew and then again an hour later with Josh. I can’t help wondering how many other people she visited twice. All six year old wicked witches look the same, it’s the adult with them you notice.

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There was a hell of a ruckus going on in the duck pen this morning. Baby had flown over the fence and was in with Ozzy and George – the problem being you can’t tell the two drakes apart. Ozzy is a tart – she’s a ladies man – so no way was she letting on which duck was meant to be with her, she'd keep the two, thank you very much. Unfortunately George is the spit of his dad, and as neither duck would quack, I couldn’t tell them apart. In the end I let all three out into the garden and waited the few seconds that was needed for George to make a bee line for the back door. He’s just never accepted that he isn’t a dog and still thinks it’s OK to go inside and sit by the fire. I shoved Baby back in with Daisy – who bent his ear about making advances at other ducks – quacking and bobbing her head at him for all she was worth. Baby was the first duck we breed ourselves – I didn’t know then that the first egg to hatch is usually male – so the poor thing got called Baby Duck until I could tell its sex. The name stuck and he now fights everything in sight – he’s a duck with an inferiority complex.

George was incubated. Matt took several eggs to school as a science project – only one hatched. The teacher called him out of lessons to witness the birth and he watched the tiny duckling fight its way free of its shell. I then got a phone call to say I could collect child and duckling and take them home. That was a bit of a shock – I thought they’d keep it for a few days, until it was bigger. I wasn’t ready for it – parenthood was thrust upon me. George (named after George Clooney) refused to sit in the box on the way home and demanded to be cuddled under Matthew's chin – with hind sight I should have spotted the signs then – but I didn’t. I naively thought I would be able to put him in with Daisy, who was really broody at the time.

Daisy loved him on sight – unfortunately George was absolutely horrified that we were trying to put him in with her – Couldn’t we tell a human when we saw one. I endeavoured to convince him otherwise for over twenty minutes, until I gave in and walked back to the house with this tiny little duckling following me – Daisy calling him back for all she was worth. So into the house he went – ‘this was more like it,’ he said. ‘now if you could just pick me up and put me under your chin, I’ll have a little sleep.’ Himself flatly refused to let me take him upstairs with us at bedtime, so I had to make him a bed in a box and leave him downstairs. The weeks that followed found me coming home every lunch time so that I could fill a washing-up bowl with water for him to have a swim – he used to shoot under the water and swim around and around in circles. When he wasn’t asleep on me, he sit on our old Labradors back – the silly dog let him. He went all over the place with me – I even took him to Tracy’s Mum & Dads Bar-b-cue, good job he was too small to eat. So he grew up with the dogs – he used to follow them around, and they just accepted him.

As he got bigger, Himself insisted that George should go in a pen outside – I wouldn’t let him – he'd be lonely on his own. Where the hell was I going to find another duckling his age, who was hand reared and also thought it was a dog. It’s funny how life has a habit of introducing you to people when you most need them – they show up in the most funniest of places. A colleague from work introduced me to a friend of hers during a night out – she was worried sick – she had this hand reared Kaki Campbell duckling that was petrified of her other ducks. She'd found it half dead on the stable floor and had revived it with a drop of whiskey – have you tasted whiskey? I’m surprised she didn’t finish the poor thing off altogether. She been taking it into work with her, where it spent the day in the dog’s basket with her dog – but she needed to find it a home. Unlike us she hadn’t named it – she didn’t want to get attached. So George met Ozzy – what can I say, Stee named her. They didn’t like each other much at first, but they soon settled down together. When they were put in the pen outside for the first time, I didn’t sleep a wink all night – I was convinced they'd miss me. I open the door of their sleeping box the next morning – for morning read 5am – and they waddled out, not a bit bothered.

George still likes me to lift him in and out of the paddling pool – and if they’re roaming the garden you have to make sure the back door is shut or they both wander in and make themselves at home.

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I saw this in a shop yesterday and it made he smile:

Blogger is feeling generous today, it's let me post loads of pictures - including some of Warwick & Stratford