Happy Birthday Vancouver Brother

Eamon..., originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

I hope you had a great day. Don't be working too hard now. See you at the next wedding.

Advice

On meeting Ed….

Don’t flatter him – it makes him uncomfortable.

Mention Jeremy Clarkson – he likes Jeremy Clarkson & comics & serious talk about Big Brother (No! Not that Big Brother)

The West Wing? Movies? Perfidy of government? General lad stuff? All good.

Dimples? What dimples?

Wild At Heart

Harry de Cat has just sauntered past with a fine, fat and dead rabbit in his jaws. Swisser is appalled.

Bert you are going to have to let that cat go. He is totally wild. He'll be going for the hens next.

Despite my bad night I've had a very enjoyable afternoon in the company of certain bloggers. There'll be more about it later. Right now I have a poem to write.....

Pukerama

So, after a particularly hideous, stressful and tiring shift in Tinkerton, I thought I'd have an early night. Up I went at 11.30pm, only to wake again around oneish with a very sore belly. I couldn't get back to sleep and spent the hours between two and five in occasional vomiting. Very unpleasant but each bout did result in a reduction of the gripes so I suppose it was worthwhile. Bert didn't hear a thing and his sympathetic response this morning hardly registered on the symposcale.

Some points to remember for the future

• Don't eat curry chips from the Doury Fryer.
• Don't eat the supper Bert cooked when you're not hungry just because you want to encourage him to cook occasionally.
• If you haven't got that caring someone to hold your hair back when you are vomiting get your hair cut short.
• Wear glasses when vomiting to avoid splashback in the eye.

Happy Birthday

Matty, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

My Three Girls

You shouldn’t have favourites. Everyone knows that. But I cannot help myself. I have a favourite.

My big girl – she’s a bit standoffish, a bit aloof. Some might say she’s shy. All I know is she’ll run a mile if you try to pick her up. But she’s industrious and loyal and very, very pretty.

My little girl – what a scruffy tyke she is. You never saw such a bedraggled girl. But she’s also brave, adventurous and generous and is rarely parted from my big girl.

But my middle girl – I cannot help myself. I like her the best. She walks like a duck and is the greediest girl ever. She loves to eat slugs and she lets me cuddle her whenever I want. Yes. Patsy is, without doubt, my very favourite hen.

In Praise Of Jeeves

I decided to check the oil and water of my motor but as usual I forgot how to open the bonnet. Yeah. Go on. Laugh. Bert is not here so I couldn’t ask him. I’ve been trying for about half an hour and I give up and started to look for the manual but I couldn’t find that either.

Then I thought – the internet! All knowledge resides there if you know how to ask. I tried Google but all I got there was manuals on Ebay. Then I remembered AskJeeves. So I AskedJeeves how do I open a Ford Fiesta bonnet and got this…

Northlondon - 18 Jul 2004 20:23 GMT
How do I open the goddammed bonnet??

pottsy - 19 Jul 2004 18:19 GMT
unmissable bright orange handle on the underneath of the steering column.

And there it was. Totally unmissable. Writing this post will ensure that I never forget again. I’ll think, now how do I open this again? Oh yes. Unmissable bright orange handle. Thanks Jeeves & thanks pottsy.

The Kidnapping Of Matty

It's Matty's birthday on Friday. It's a big special birthay with a nought on the end and all and for months now we've been pondering how it should be celebrated. Big party? Small party? Ceilidh? We couldn't decide. Matty put her oar in. She didn't want any fuss. Did she mean it? She did. The dilemma continued. How to mark a special birthday when the birthday girl doesn't want any fuss? And what would the neighbours say?

Dilemma solved. Matty has been kidnapped and taken to a secret location on the Dingle Peninsula. There she will be attended by a select band of Mafia-type kidnapper daughters who are obviously after her money.

Bon voyage Matty!

And Sleep....To Wake Up In A Cold Sweat After Yet Another Nightmare

Last night I had a vivid dream in which Bert forcibly cut my hair.

Then I dreamed that my late & lovely father-in-law was obsessively searching out and taking in wayward teenage girls in a Gladstonian frame of mind. These rescued girls then shared premises with my daughters, bullied them and stole from them.

Then I dreamed that a family member had decided (on a whim) to move to Australia leaving her immediate family in utter turmoil. This action brought lots of issues from the past to life and put me in turmoil also.

I'm waking up in the mornings more tired than when I went to bed.

Not A Tattooed Granny To Be Seen

Dan Tobin has been looking at his wacky internet search terms so I thought I’d do likewise. Mine are a bit boring but then I haven’t got a site like this one.

• photos of feral children

• magpie traps larson

• mcilhatton

• fortieth birthday greetings

• st sithney

• piebald ponies

• stags horn sumach

That’s all I can manage for now because I’m feeling very stressed. I had to send my car home at the weekend, as the situation surrounding the workplace was looking dodgy. Both my shifts were with agency workers I’d not met before and I slept badly between shifts.

Eating His Greens

Bert said to me last night,

I've started to eat everything I see when I'm weeding in that garden.

What do you mean? You nibble on radishes and stuff?

No. I eat greenfly.

What do they taste like?

If they're on lettuce they taste of lettuce and if they're on beans they taste of beans. I was going to have a feed of those caterpillars we found on the cabbages but I couldn't because Raymond was standing watching me.

Sure the hens won't even eat those. They're probably bitter.

Maybe. I'd like to try them.

Would you eat slugs?

No. I draw the line at slugs. Unless they were cooked.

I'm Your Fan

When I first started reading Ed’s blog there were very few female commenters. It was, and still is, a blokish blog but for me that was part of its charm. I also liked his impeccable grasp of grammar although I noticed his spelling occasionally let him down. No doubt those errors occurred because he was frenziedly key bashing to get his impassioned rants out there.

Now I find Ed is building up a bit of a female following.

There is Toast, there is Sandra and there is The Swearing Lady

As I’ve been here the longest and am Ed’s oldest* female fan I bags the post of CatchThat Fan Club Secretary. I might be able to arrange a supply of signed photographs of the man himself. Can’t make any promises though.

*Seven years off pension age. So yahboo to the rest of you who will probably have to work until you are eighty.

Too Hot To Blog

Two shifts in Mingerton completed and I'm tired enough to die of tiredness. It's so hot I cannot even tolerate a lunchtime walk. I've no car to get away from the dirty hole that is Tinkerton/Mingerton and anyway my feet stick to the asphalt. It's too hot to work, to blog and to cook.

This morning I was wakened at quarter to six by the roar of silage cutters. It is all lies about the countryside being quiet. It is loud, it is lethally dangerous* and it is smelly. Cattle reek in hot weather, sheep are rank and the pungent stench of last season's silage would knock you on your back.

Taking washing to the line this morning I met Harry de Cat hurrying towards the house with a freshly killed rabbit in his jaws. On my return from work I found the half devoured and disembowelled corpse resting beside my verbenas. So Nellybert decided to have a barbecue.

Harry de Cat with his bellyful of rabbit

Harry's leftovers

Swear to God we had sausages and chicken and a delicious green salad washed down with some cheap cider. Eat Harry's leftovers? I should think not. Maybe next month when I'm not spending any money we'll be sharing Harry's kills and eating Mag Pie.

*Consider Bert and his .22 missing the magpies and hitting God know's what.

Who'd A Thought It?

I posted a true story the other day about Chep pallets. It amused me because Chep phone-torture us almost daily about the amount of pallets we have (about six) and to arrange their (hardly ever) collection. You’d think we were Mr Sainsbury or Mr Tesco, with millions of the bloody things, to hear them go on. Then you see them stacked in their thousands on eleventh night bonfires just waiting to go up in smoke at about a cost of £7 a unit to the likes of Bert, Mr Sainsbury, Mr B&Q and the rest. You get your £7+ back when the pallets are returned but what if they’re not returned due to being used as kindling to burn the toxic tyres which culminate in the burning of the tricolour, Pope Benedict, Gerry Adams, Monica Digney effigy or whatever demon of the day is currently in vogue… lots of 7 quids up in smoke.

These bonfires are an expensive business for all of us and not just the users of the blue pallet handling service. And that was my well-disguised point.

But despite my beautiful photographs none of you regular readers commented so I thought the whole thing had fallen flat - until today when my hits spiked. Someone from this site had posted a link to Nelly’s Garden on the forum. Who’d have thought there would be a site dedicated to people working in the pallet industry? But then again, knowing the Internet, it would have been far odder if there weren’t one.

Natives and Aliens in South Tyrone

Bert holds signal crayfish (alien)

From left red fox (native), river otter (native) and mink (alien)

We saw all of these in the Blackwater valley. Sightings of the otter and mink were very brief but we spent an enjoyable ten minutes watching Foxy attempt to cross a field of cattle. The cattle kept chasing him off. Next morning Paddy and Rosie went off on the scunge to dig him out of his foxhole. As usual they did not succeed.

Thanks to Jaffs I now know a lot more about crayfish than ever before. The specimens we found in the Blackwater at Annaghroe Bridge are signal crayfish. They're aliens brought in from the USA to farm and, as is often the case, made their escape to the wild. They threaten the native white-clawed crayfish and the river environment too.

Incidentally Annaghroe Bridge where we camped doesn't actually cross the river. Bert said that when he stayed in Caledon (remember this was during the Troubles) the British Army kept blowing it up. The locals would patch it and then the Army would blow it up again. Annaghroe and Knockaginney Bridges are the only two of 104 border crossings closed during the Troubles that remain closed to this day. Both should cross the Blackwater. There's a well-used sheep bridge at Knockaginney but no vehicle access. Questions have been asked in parliament but despite extensive lobbying, the NIO continue to refuse to complete rebuilding at the two sites on the grounds that the budget allocated for reopening border roads has already been exceeded (An Phoblact, February 2000)

It's hard on the farmers who have land on either side of the border. But the foxes and otters and minks and crayfish don't care one bit.

Return to Brokeback Mountain

The first place we visited on our recent camping trip was the historic village of Caledon in County Tyrone. Caledon is a border town abutting on to the counties Armagh (Northern Ireland) and Monaghan (Eire). What I didn't know before we went there was that Bert was making a return visit to the area.

Sometime in the early 80s Bert took a summer job with the Ulster Trust for Nature Conservation. His role was to assist in a survey of birds in the area of the Blackwater river valley. He and Philip (an ecologist) spent four months living in a forester's hut just outside Caledon village. It was at the height of the Troubles. We drove to the site where the hut had stood.

We slept there on the floor of the hut. Every morning we'd cook breakfast on an old wood-burning stove. It was my Brokeback Mountain summer.

Oh really? Was there sex?

No sex.

Was there sheep?

No sheep.

Stands to reason I suppose. The sheep would have been the sex.

Pretty Pictures

I'm a bit shattered myself. The picture shows part of what happened during last night's riot in Mingerton. Being work related I cannot say too much but it was not a pleasant experience for anyone. I don't know who lobbed the stone that smashed my rear window but I'd bet a week's wages* he/she was a child. A feral child.

What kind of parents allow children (some as young as four) to be out when things like that are going on? And they must have known there was a situation going on in the estate for the riot police were out in force.

After the PSNI removed a couple of key characters (for their own safety) I was able to get Bert in to drive my car home to the safety of Cully. I wish he could have taken me home to safety too.

Back on the home front - Harry de Cat 1 Rats 0

Nellybert and the dogs are going camping now so we'll have some proper pretty pictures to post later.

*As if I could afford to bet a week's wages. It'll take that to fix the back window of the Fiesta.

Plumbing Emergency

Bert 3 Magpies 2

Bert is still waiting for that post (in-house sniper, Tinkerton) to come up and yesterday, to keep his hand in, sent another magpie to oblivion. But the brutes are undeterred. Just now he set his sights on another of the feathered fiends. And. Missed. The Magpie. And. Hit. A Water Pipe.

Now he has to race down to Cully for a jointer. And all the magpies are sitting on the byre roof laughing at him.

CHEP Calling

"CHEP issues ready-for-use pallets and containers from its CHEP service centers to manufacturers and growers. The manufacturers and growers load their goods and ship their products through the supply chain using a CHEP pallet or container. At the end of the supply chain, the receiving retailer or distributor off-loads the goods and returns the CHEP pallets or containers to the nearest CHEP service center. CHEP inspects the pallet or container and ensures it meets our quality standards for the next customer use. The ready-for-use pallet or container is then issued to the next customer for its customized use and movement through the supply chain. This system, where high quality pallets and containers are constantly maintained, controlled, tracked and reused to benefit the entire supply chain is the CHEP pooling services. "


GoodmorningthisisCHEPpalletscallingdoyouhaveanybluepalletsforcollection?

Yes. There are about six lying out at the back of the shed.

Canwegetaccesswitha40foottrailertocollectthepallets?

Aye. Probably. But yerman might have a bit of bother getting them pulled out of the nettle patch that has grown up around them in the past 18 months.

Pardon?

I mean they've been there like forever and you people phone up at least twice a week and then you never send anybody to collect them.

Pardon?

You'll have a lot less to be bothering yourselves about after the other night won't you? Did you see the size of some of those bonfires? Your blue pallets are worth about £7.65 each. Isn't that right? Dear kindling.

Click. Silence.

Bert! The bugger's hung up!

No Hangover

No breakages, no fights, no fisticuffs, no sexual shenanigans, no live music, no fireworks, no guns, no Orangemen, nobody died. Not even a magpie.

That has to have been one of the tamest Twelfth barbecues ever. I was in bed before midnight! Even the Wee Manny behaved himself!

The Glorious Twelfth: Part 6. Herman. An Honoured Guest

Meat Sir?
Originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Herman finds himself replete and refuses the Wee Manny's offer of a second helping.

Sobriety Report: Close to stocious

The Glorious Twelfth: Part 5. Howard Arrives...

...bearing beauteous perenniels for Nelly's Garden. Kniphofia, 2 Rudbeckias and 2 glorious Dahlia.

Bert announces,

Boys I'm as full as a po.

Time I think for strong coffee for I have delicious salads to prepare.

Sobriety announcement. If not as full as a po I'm, at least, half cut.

The Glorious Twelfth: Part 4. The Fallen

Dee Mac & Herman are here and the boys are playing with fire.


Jonathan phones.

"Can't make it. Those bastards next door partied until six this morning singing Orange songs and all. I didn't sleep at all. I'm too exhausted and I've got to get ready for my holiday tomorrow. D'ye want a dog?"

Esteemed Work Colleague phones.

"Can't make it. Mad here all night. We had to get the riot police put (unnamed) out. I'm exhausted. Got no sleep. See you tomorrow at work."

The Glorious Twelfth: Part 3. The Wee Manny..

..and Mrs The Wee Manny are here. Jamie & Hannah are here. The rain has stopped. The South African Chenin Blanc Reserve (Tesco special offer) has been pronounced good. Bert has completed his filial duties. He has delivered his mother to his Aunt Lizzie's house. He has delivered hen pellets to his Eccentric Aunt Who Lives Squalorously In A Condemned House In The Hills.

How was she? Filthy.

And that's not filthy in a good way either. At every turn he has been impeded by Orangemen on the march.

They got me in Cully then they got me at Broadway then I raced down to Harryville and they got me there. They got me again in Kells. Bastards!

Meanwhile I have been in telephone communication with Swisser and have persuaded her that what she needs to beat her lurgy is Meat! And lots of it! So she should be coming along later.

William, Mary & Ollie

William, Mary & Ollie
Originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

I thought it might be seasonal to give this picture another airing.

Might I offer a suggestion too to help the Orangies spend their government moolah - even more fancy dress please. And better music.

The Glorious Twelfth: Part 2. Two Coffees Later

Showered, shampooed and powdered and sitting at my second cup of coffee.

I've been thrown one of those intellectual challenges by Bert. Ezra Pound - Shakespearean character or real-life man? Those brown pieces of pie are not his strongest point in the game of Trivial Pursuit.

Now he's off to deliver Pearlie to Lizzie's house. I wonder why she wants to get off-site? Could it be the expected arrival of the Wee Manny? For he's such a rough boy....

The Glorious Twelfth: Part 1. Morning

Happy Orangeman's Day everyone. It looks a bit damp. Pity that. Not for the Orangemen of course, because they love walking in the rain - it cools their boiling blood. But a pity for us as we are having a barbecue today. All being well I'm going to blog all day so you might notice a little deterioration in sobriety as the day wears on.

It's also a happy birthday to Swisser who claims to be sick and shan't be coming. That is a shame as, it is such a significant birthday for her. Ahem!

I'm sitting here in my pyjamas and bird's nest hair. Bert is making breakfast. The dogs need let out and I need to.....

It's War!

Current Update - Bert 2 Magpies 1

Went out to the hen house this morning to find the tell-tale signs of egg larceny by pica pica. The big thieving brute pecks a large hole in the egg then slurps up the goodness within. When they are starting to take the food out of our very mouths it's definitely war.

So it's off with us to the Gun Shop in Portglenone to stock up on shells & pellets. He's going to have a go with the shotgun as well for pica pica sitting in trees. As he explained to me he cannot fire upwards with the .22 as the shell could travel for miles and hit some poor unfortunate being.

Which unfortunate occurrence actually happened to someone I know whilst he was out shooting crows. Nobody died but it was nasty enough.

Meanwhile I'm the Gun Police. "Is that thing loaded?" "Break that bloody thing when you're not using it!" "Mind the dogs!" "Don't shoot that thing when I'm in the yard!" And finally, "Is your licence up to date?"

August Is The Cheapest Month

I read this in Saturday’s Guardian and I have been thinking about it ever since. A year without spending. I couldn’t do a year but I could try a month. Like Judith Levine my spending would include essentials.

• Food


• Basic toiletries


• Basic detergents


• Internet access


• One paper per week (Saturday Guardian or Sunday Times)


• Diesel


• Existing standing orders (include household bills, pension etc)


• Pet food

My spending would not include

• Charity shops


• Magazines


• Alcohol


• Eating out


• Clothing


• Chocolate & sweets


• Presents


• Books, CDs etc


• Ebay & other impulse internet buys

August is when I’ll begin. From the first to the thirty-first. Family members with August birthdays do not fret. I’ll see you in September instead.


Will I be blogging about it? But of course.  

Must Have Been The Broken Dishwasher On The Porch....

...and learning to drive on a tractor.

Looks like I'm a Yankee Irishwoman.

You Are 15% Redneck

I'll slap you so hard, your clothes will be outta style. You ain't no redneck - you're all Yankee!

How Redneck Are You?

Found at

Baboon Pirates

Blog of the Week

Blog of the Week

Nepotism rules!

One For Sorrow

Magpie in his sights
Originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

When I took this picture I was planning to call it Magpie 1 Bert 0. But he got one.

I don't know if I feel the same about him now I know he's a cold-blooded magpie murderer.

It's still quicker and cleaner than the Larsen cage trap.

The Honest Sales Assistant

Yesterday Bert and I went to Ballymena to buy a replacement dishwasher. While Bert trotted off to the bank to pay in some cheques I went to a local shop where they always provide good service. I have to say that I found the price of their dishwashers a bit breath taking at first. There were machines costing in excess of £300 and I’d told Bert we’d be paying less than £200. So when the sales assistant approached me to ask if he could help I asked him if he had any less expensive dishwashers. He led me over to another part of the shop and showed me a much cheaper machine. I’d never heard of the make but it looked all right to me.

So why is this machine so much cheaper than the others?

Because it’s manufactured in the third world using cheap materials from China.

Oh.

This machine was made by people who aren’t getting a proper wage for their work. People who work in unsafe conditions. People who are, in fact, children!

So is it any good?

There’s not a thing wrong with it.

Even so you’ve put me off a bit. I don’t like the idea of buying a dishwasher that was made by badly treated children. Should you be telling me this?

I’ll not be telling you lies. I have the man above to answer to when I die!

Would you buy this dishwasher?

A dishwasher! I don’t think so. People have no need of dishwashers at all. After all how did our grandmothers manage? What’s wrong with washing dishes in the sink? People have no need of half the stuff they have these days! When Armageddon comes….

Thankfully at this point Bert joined us and I managed to change the subject. We did not buy the very unethical dishwasher. We bought another one instead. Ten pounds more but at least I can sleep at night. ;)

Magpie

I’m heading towards the clothesline with a basketful of wet washing when I hear the sound of a rifle. I say to myself. ‘That sounds close.’ And it was. For there’s Bert sitting on his ma’s sofa with the 2.2 balanced on the back of a chair and he’s firing out the window…

What in the name of God are you at? Can a woman not hang out her laundry about this place without running the risk of being shot?

I’m just setting the sights on this to see if I can get a few magpies.

Right then. Seeing as you look like a maniac I’m going to get my camera. Hang on there for a minute.

Meanwhile Pearlie is sitting on the other sofa calm as you like watching ‘Deal Or No Deal’. She thoroughly approves of magpie killing.

Madman

Bert’s Aunt Lizzie was up at the weekend and she was giving off bucketfuls about the amount of young magpies about this place. They are beautiful birds but not much liked about the countryside. Lizzie told Bert he ought to cull them and Pearlie agreed.

A few weeks back at Matty’s house one of my cousins was relating with relish the numbers of magpies that she and her husband were trapping in Larsen cages. They farm sheep and it’s a common belief among sheep farmers that magpies kill new-born lambs by pulling at the remains of the umbilical cord and pecking for gizzards with their sharp-bladed bills.

Song and hedge bird lovers aren’t too enamoured of the magpie either. In gardens they are second only to the domestic cat as a predator of songbirds and fledglings. It is estimated that magpies destroy 20 million songbird eggs a year.

The Game Conservancy Trust, a Hampshire-based conservation body, is inclined to agree. Its own research, supported by the eco-baronet Sir Jonathan Porritt, suggests that magpies are a significant factor in the recent steep decline in the number of British songbirds.

The Game Conservancy now sells hundreds of £66 Larsen traps to the public. These multiple-boxed, spring-doored devices… lure magpies into a cage by using the call of an already trapped bird. When two birds are in the trap it's time to remove one, kill it, and use the survivor to summon another.

This cull is legal. Magpies were classified as a pest in the 1981 Wildlife Act. "You cannot just kill them for aesthetic reasons," says the Game Conservancy's Morag Walker. "It's not good enough just to hate them. But killing them to protect other wildlife is permitted." The traps are infinitely preferable to the poison that people used to put down. Link

Meanwhile back at the Nellybert ranch Pearlie’s wee dog Penny had ran off terrified by the noise of gunfire in her living room. And could you blame her? Pearlie was raging.

Ye had no need to be shooting that gun in here. Could ye not have shot it in yeer ain hoose?

Bert and I were sent off to find her, which was no easy task. We searched the houses, looked in the sheds and tramped the fields. The wee dog has a bad heart, likely brought on by a diet of shop-bought cake and buns, and we were convinced she’d taken a heart attack and died in a ditch. Bert was off through the fields and I’d just returned from an extensive tour of the verges and ditches looking for a wee doggy corpse when Pearlie hailed me and indicated Penny at her feet.

Where was she?

No reply. Pearlie stared at me balefully. I asked again. My request for information went unanswered again. Eventually she said,

Och she came from over there somewhere.

So I went to find Bert and I told him of Pearlie’s delight at the return of her wee dog and of her gratitude at our hour-long search for her.

He said,

She has about as much charm at her as a... as a…

As a rattlesnake?

Aye! D’ye fancy eating rabbit? I could shoot us a rabbit. I’d skin it and everything.

Oh yes! I'd eat rabbit. That would be awesome.

I don't think so. You can hop in peace bunnies. You are safe from Bert. He’ll never hit you. Not with his gun anyway. Maybe with his van.

One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.

According to Terry Pratchett:
There are many rhymes about magpies, but none of them are very reliable, because they are not the ones the magpies know.

What Have I Reared? (She Despaired)

A Hussy’s Advice

I hope Hannah's granny never reads this.

…..a more modern day approach to bosoms. The first rule is to show as much cleavage as possible. This means wearing low cut top, shirts with all top 6 buttons undone, two belts or just a bra. If you aren't well-endowed and haven't got much of a cleavage there are ways to cheat. Wonderbras, push up bras, balcony bras, magic bras or chicken fillets will all give you the appearance of having more of a bust. However, think about how disappointed your man will be when he undresses you. Really the only thing to do is get a breast enlargement.The second rule is to always be alert. This means that if your you-know-whats aren't standing to attention you should immediately place yourself in a cool area, such as a walk-in freezer. This is harder during the warmer seasons so you'll have to rely mainly on your cleavage or alternatively, you could flash them. Golden rules: You should always draw attention to your bosoms. You should always stick out your chest when talking to men. You should always show a bit of cleavage and a bit of leg. Remember, your bosoms are your weapon, attack and conquer with them. No man, especially the wrong type of man, can resist the womanly charms of your heaving bust.

Toning Down The Bust

Despite her protests this post is going to be about bosoms but as my mother will be writing it, it will be done in the best possible taste. I hand you over to Me Ma.

Well here we are then writing on Nelly’s block. It’s just a wee bit of advice I have for any of youse ones that suffer from a big bust. Like our poor Nelly has God love her. I don’t know where she got it from for nobody else on our side of the family ever had one and anyway we always thought it cheapened the look of a girl and attracted the wrong kind of boys.

The first and most important thing for toning down the bust is to wear a good bra. There’s a lot of talk about cup sizes and so on but I believe the most important thing is for the bra to be made of good thick material and to cover as much as the bust as you can for there is nothing as bad-looking as your you-know-whats sticking out. If your you-know-whats are particularly bad at sticking out then a good thick Wolsley vest might be the answer. You could try wearing your bra over your vest too.

I wouldn’t be on for showing the bust at all. There’s a great go on at the minute for women on the TV with their busts on show and I don’t think that’s right at all. So I’d advise girls to keep their necklines high and watch their top buttons. If you are wearing a blouse that buttons up the front it might be a good thing to get a bigger size to keep the buttons from bursting open for that makes a girl look very cheap and attracts the wrong sort of boys.

Too tight clothes are another problem. I’m on for good-fitting clothes for they help the look of the figure but I wouldn’t be on for clothes that are very tight and show the complete shape of you. So watch out for the tight clothes if you want to tone down your bust and you don’t want to attract the wrong sort of boys.  

A Change In The Weather

God I'm drained.

An evening of dealing with alcohol abusers, assaults and a near riot sure takes it out of you.

Normal blogging will resume tomorrow. Shall it be bosoms, Chep pallets or delinquent cats? Or will it be something completely different?

I'm going to drink whiskey now.

Gandalf The Chancer

My current job has some good points. Sometimes I get serenaded and today I was treated to a one-man dramatisation of an entire chapter of 'The Lord of the Rings' words and actions.

And sometimes I come across real life interpretations of the balcony scene from 'Romeo & Juliet'. Yes. Occasionally when the weather is warm and sunny and everyone is in a good mood my job is just fine.

Just the one person then giving his opinion on axes versus hatchets. A hatchet is better you see because you don't have to swing it so hard. I think he was talking about chopping wood.