Sunday, September 30, 2007
But that was then. And this is....
In her most recent post Hails waxes lyrical about the great Daniel O’Donnell. She makes the true observation that Daniel is very much beloved by elderly ladies. This worries me. At what point of the slide into old age does Love of Daniel begin? Does the Queen adore O’Donnell? Is Vivienne Westwood a fan? Are Patti Smith and Deborah Harry planning future musical collaborations with the Donegal man?
But I think Daniel Adoration is associated not just with age but also with simple-mindedness. Because it’s not just certain elderly ladies that make up Daniel’s fan base, it’s…. now how do I put this?
Q. What is the current P.C. term?
A. Developmental Disability.
Or as legend has it, in Ulster Scots parlance, The Wee Dafties.
I worked for years with the developmentally disabled and one thing that I noticed was that, whenever they could choose for themselves, their general taste in music was
crap not pleasing to my ears.
Usually they’d favour the worst sort of country and western music (think George Jones), the most anodyne so-called pop music, really dreadful heavy metal or Daniel O’Donnell and some other similar sad sap whose name escapes me.
Occasionally you’d get a classical music fan but he or she would be incapable of verbalising musical choices and I often thought that these choices were imposed upon them by parents or staff who just wanted a bit of chill-out time. For the music chosen would be soothing rather than challenging.
But to return to the fascinating subject of Daniel - at one of the places I worked staff organised a holiday for a group of residents in Donegal. They hired a minibus and spent their days
searching for Daniel O’Donnell taking in the beautiful Donegal scenery. Eventually they tracked down the O’Donnell residence but, sadly, Daniel was not at home. They did meet his mother and his aunt and were invited in for tea and scones. It was the highlight of the holiday. For the staff that is. The residents did not have much to say about it. Except for the one who always vomited when she got excited. Or thought no one was paying any attention to her. She said, ‘Daniel’s Mammy was great Nelly. She gave us photos and scones. I boked mine up and Agnes ripped her photo!”
P.S. Interestingly, to me anyway, Daniel's
beard wife is called Majella. That's my middle name. Nelly Majella Moser.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Danny (pictured right) and Paddy (below) looked very similar. The main difference was the ears. Danny's stuck up and Paddy's flopped.
We only had Paddy for a few months when Danny died. For a good while afterwards I'd look at Paddy and think to myself that his ears looked really stupid.
Then the other evening I came across a picture of dear old Dan and I found myself saying to Bert,
Didn't Danny's ears look really stupid?
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Shauna's got her Dietgirl book coming out in January 2008 and I'll be buying it for sure.
But that's not the only thing I've been putting off for ages. Here's something for the laddies. I know there's nothing you'd like to see more than a bunch of (allegedly) heterosexual men dressing up in women's clothing. So here's some pics from New Year's Eve, 1999.
Obviously I told Bert I was posting this. I do have to live with him after all. He said,
I don't look bad at all do I?
Better than those other two gypes anyway.
Judge for yourselves.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Since the great Paddington hunt I've also been keeping an eye out for a naked and neglected Gabrielle bear to dress up. After all I do have the pattern sourced at great expense from Texas.
But no luck there either. I did find a couple of nice bits of SylVac for Matty (she collects) which I'll keep for her Christmas present.
I was checking my spongeware mug on Ebay this afternoon to see if I'd been done up like a kipper. It seems I paid a fair enough price for it after all. While I was on I had a look to see if there were any bare Paddington Bears going for a song. There wasn't. But I did learn something new.
I never knew that Jeremy Clarkson started his working life as a travelling salesman for Paddington Bears!*
Seems the very first Paddington Bear was created by Gabrielle Designs in 1972, a small business run by Jeremy's parents Shirley and Eddie Clarkson, with the prototype made as Christmas presents for the Clarkson kids. Although the original Paddington Bear didn't wear boots, Shirley Clarkson dressed her bear in Wellington boots to help him stand upright. The earliest bears wore Dunlop wellies until the Dunlop company could not keep up with production. Gabrielle Designs then produced their own boots with paw prints molded into the soles. Gabrielle Designs eventually went into liquidation, although by this time the Clarksons had sold the company. This means that the original Gabrielle Paddingtons have become quite desirable.
One of the reasons cited for Gabrielle Designs' downfall was the huge popularity of the Teletubbies toys. Paddington just couldn't compete with that craze. Of course it's a while ago now but I remember feeling very baffled to hear grown men and women talk about their quest to buy a Teletubbies toy for their children. The queues for Teletubbies even made the evening news.
I've yet to see the Gabrielle Paddington at the market or in the charity shops but I often see those grubby Teletubbies. I wonder what they're going for on Ebay?
Just checked. Around 99 pence.
*As I read this on Wikipedia it may be lies. I once read on Wikipedia that Jermaine Jackson's son went to Hogwarts and injured Harry Potter during the course of a Quidditch match.
Friday, September 21, 2007
When I got home the Pig Cartel were standing around watching the herd eat. Pigs love eating. Two of them needed injections but wouldn't stay still to take them. So I jumped in and caught the first pig while Joe jagged him. The second one was harder to work with. He took two of us to hold him still. Joe jagged him and he squealed.....like a pig.
Bert was terribly proud of me.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
I've spent the evening uploading photographs to PhotoBox, cleaning my bookshelves and playing with the book application on Facebook. I had a long phone conversation with Ganching in which we talked mostly about blogging.
I said to her,
So what are you doing tomorrow?
I'm taking Matty to the doctor.
What's wrong with her?
She has a watery eye.
Her hole! I mean.. that's good she's going to the doctor. That watery eye has definitely been annoying her.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
You'd think they'd never seen pigs before. The amount of visitors we've had since the porkers came has increased dramatically. And Clint is practically living with us.
Those of you who know him will remember how he used to talk incessantly about potatoes. He knew every variety of spud grown in Europe. He was a blight expert, ploughing was his passion and soil an obsession.
Then there was eggs. He started of by hauling them around the country. Who knew the hazards attached to egg transportation? Then he got some, and so did we, but Clint wasn't content with a few ex-battery hens about the place. His craving for fowl grew...and grew. Turkeys were next, then geese. The local foxes were in fowl heaven.
Of course if you've got a lot of poultry you need a lot of sheds. It started with one. But one wasn't enough. Soon Clint's yard was thronged with sheds. You could hardly get through it.
Now it's pigs. Clint has no room for them at his own place just yet. Too many sheds in the way. So they're here in the meantime. Two for Clint, two for his mate and two for us. Where will it end?
It was as Mr Bolan said, (he is a genius, I swoon at his feet) a blip, not hackery.
I flicked a tiny smidgen of breakfast TV this morning. On channels 1 and 3 the talking heads were discussing 'problem gambling' on the internet. Each sofa consisted of a breakfast TV couple, an 'expert' and a female 'problem gambler'. The channel 3 specimen was middle-aged and respectable. She hid her gambling from her family and friends. Apparently, like 'problem drinking', if it takes place at home, it can appear quite genteel. At first. Until the bailiffs come.
The channel 1 bint was cut from a different cloth. She was brazen. Got herself into tens of thousands of pounds worth of debt then started stealing from work to fund her gambling addiction. She was quite blase about it all.
The presenter said,
But you robbed a bank of twenty-five thousand pounds!The hussy replied,
That was my gambling addiction that lead me to do it.Like that made it OK. I couldn't understand why she was sitting there. Shouldn't she have been in jail? Then I got bored and flicked to Dora the Explorer.
They were still on about internet gambling on Radio 4 while I was driving home from work. Apparently there are 250'000 'problem gamblers' in the UK. Some government type announced,
250'000 problem gamblers is an unacceptable number!And I thought to myself,
I wonder what number of problem gamblers would be acceptable?Let's face it - if everyone was as keen on gambling as Nellybert the bookmakers, internet casinos, lotteries et al would soon go bust. We don't even do the lottery. I've bought one scratch card in my whole life and have bet on the Grand National maybe twice.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
It's no wonder Congleton War Memorial Hospital in Cheshire has, on health and safety grounds, banned knitting needles from its waiting rooms and wards.
Monday, September 17, 2007
On his 84th birthday my father said,
I want you to do something for me.
So what d'ye want me to do?
I want you to take me to Leitrim to see Deirdre.
Aye. I will. Some day soon.
It never happened. He took a stroke just a couple of weeks later. This weekend was the first time I went back to Leitrim. It was his birthday weekend.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Thursday, September 13, 2007
There's this woman works with our Ruth told me that she knows of this man who fixes bicycles who spilled a tin of WD-40 on his hand. Now this old boy had bad arthritis in both of his hands...
And I'm thinking, that must have been a bit of a handicap to him and him working at bicycles.
Anyway the next day the oul boy notices his hand is as supple as anything and there's nothing like the pain so he wonders...
Oh dear God - what's she going to tell her now?
Maybe it was the WD-40. So he sprays it on his other hand and the very next day he could move his hands anyway he wanted and he hadn't ache nor pain!And Pearlie says,
Bertie! Away out to the back shed and get me some of that oul WD-40 stuff.
And Bertie does.
And lo and behold - within the hour Pearlie's wrist has loosened up and she has hardly ache nor pain.
And I say,
That stuff'll likely give her cancer!
And Bert says,
Sure what odds at her age if it gives her some relief?
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Bert thought it was funny but I was raging. Actually he thought it was funny because I was raging. Because I hadn't received a reminder letter and anyway, which bloody dog was it? The letter didn't say. I knew it wasn't Bonnie for we've not had her for a year yet. Paddy? His licence was due in March. Surely it hadn't been overlooked for nearly six months. Mind you the tone of the letter was rather haranguing - so maybe Paddy was the illegal.
I looked up the dog licence file. It was Rosie. She'd been unlicenced since 30th August, 2007. Seven whole days. The shame of it. Never mind. She's legal now. I paid the fiver.
Monday, September 10, 2007
When the tree came out we found dozens of rotten eggs. Dympna had been laying there for ages and we hadn't realised. I tried to think of a use for them but couldn't think of anyone I wanted to pelt.
Had to phone in stupid this morning.
And felt under par the entire day.
CD was very understanding. When I asked for a day's annual leave and explained why I wanted it at such short notice he just laughed and said that was fine.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
When Bert was sixteen he used to take this girl out for a spin on his dad's wee Fergie. It was a pity he cowped it, cutting capers to impress his lady friend. Thankfully Bert and his date were unhurt but the tractor was wrecked. It would have been worth a fortune today. But that's young boys for you. They're at everything.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
He recently admitted to a yen for knee length skirts, twinsets and pearls. (So womanly.)
Then last night, while we were watching Family Guy, he turned to me and said,
"You know, I fancy Lois even more than I fancy Marge Simpson."
Then he said,
"Who do you fancy most? Homer or Peter?"
Thursday, September 06, 2007
On the other hand, they'll probably be so drunk they won't notice a thing.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Nigella's not the only one with awesome recipes and, with Hails in mind, I'm going to give you Majella's* recipe for Perfect Porridge.
Porridge for Two People
Put one cup of porridge, a handful of sunflower seeds,one cup of water and one cup of milk in a saucepan. Bring to boiling and cook for a couple of minutes whilst stirring occasionally.
Serve into two bowls. Add one spoonful of honey per bowl and slice a banana between the two bowls. You can also use another soft fruit such as peaches, strawberries or blueberries. Add milk to taste.
Steep saucepan in cold water making sure to wipe porridge off saucepan rim.
Carry one bowl to bedside of Nigella-fancying lazybones and then eat own portion.
Go to work and hope that aforementioned slugabed will wash saucepan.
So there you go - my recipe for non-exploding porridge and a tip for an easily cleaned pan.
*Majella is my middle name - Nelly Majella Moser
Monday, September 03, 2007
A quarter of a century passes and I'm back keeping a journal, only this time it's online and, hopefully, not taking itself just as seriously. So what was going on in Nelly's Garden three years ago? I was wishing Hannah good luck in an interview but for what? I cannot remember. I wonder if she can. My hair, courtesy of Nice'n'Easy, was a youthful shade of brown and I was working in Spide City. I had recently given up smoking and was stacking on the weight.
Still in Spide City two years ago and getting ready to make the move up the road to the new house. We were all still grieving for Daddy. Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary going on. Oh yes. I was on a diet but it didn't last and it obviously didn't work.
This time last year I'd moved to Tinkerton, was hating it, and making an escape plan. We were in our new house nearly a year. Hannah was planning to come home, meeting Bonnie was still in the future and Shirley Finlay was in the last days of her sad, short life.
In the past year I have found myself a new job, a new qualification and a new dog. This is going to be my fifty-fifth year. I wonder what it will bring?
Sunday, September 02, 2007
I gathered up some beautiful (mostly blue) perennials and some freshly dug Sarpo Mira potatoes. That’s another thing about the Slemish Market Garden that I love – they are always trying out interesting vegetable varieties. And to add to the abundance I was given a free sample of fresh chillies for Zoe. Frank remembered that she likes them.
So that was my weekend – mother minding, pet tending and gardening with a dash of cupboard clearing thrown in for extra excitement value. I’ll have to remember to give Zoe those chillies. She’ll like them. Frank said “they would burn the bake of ye!”
A selection of perennials from the Slemish Market Garden now in my garden
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Those wee lassies look far better in those cardigans and skirts than they do in their normal clothes. They look that womanly.
Should I start dressing in twinset and pearls?
So it was a bit of a gunk when Swisser landed up just as Nellybert was settling down to watch the Big Brother final.
Oh do you watch this? I haven't seen one second of it.
I don't watch it. Nelly does.
Look at those pair! Two wee slappers. I couldn't bear to watch them for two minutes. They'd give me a headache!
Those are two of the nicest wee lassies that have ever been on Big Brother. There's not a bad bone in their bodies.
Well. I don't actually watch it but I know everybody that's in it and what's going on.
Who's that sleaze with his arms round those two slags?
That's Brian. He's a favourite to win it.
Ugh! He's so sleazy pawing round those two.
He's only nineteen!
Nineteen! Who told you that? He's 40 if he's a day!
He's only nineteen! Actually he's 20. He had his birthday while he was in the house.
Good God! Look at them all getting off with each other! This is so contrived. They can't possibly be in genuine relationships. They're just doing it for the extra publicity.
Well maybe so but they're young, cooped up together, they're bound to fancy each other.
Huh! I cannot imagine fancying anyone at work!
Speak for yourself.
What do you mean?
Well you work along with a lot of dried up old academics. I work at a building site.