New Improved Men Only Quiz

It's two years since I first posted my Men Only Quiz. Here's a second chance to do it. Remember your hormone levels can change considerably in two years. Way back then Mr Bolan had a hormonal age of only 25!

I’m not saying there’s no such thing as the male menopause because I know a lot of Grumpy Old Gits and I’ve started to notice that some of our younger male friends are partying less and moaning more. I thought I’d devise this simple little questionnaire to help you measure your hormonal age*

Choose one statement from each part that most closely resembles your current situation.

Strength & Vitality

You push furniture around a room with your head. (2)

You can push furniture around a room with your head but only when you’re drunk and if you haven’t anything better to do. (18)

The only time you push furniture around a room with your head is when you’re receiving a jolly good seeing to. (25)

Those days are over. The only furniture you're interested in is the sort you can have a comfy snooze on. (58)

Sexual Orientation

You only love your Mammy (3)

You don’t like girls. (7)

Girls don’t like you (11)

Girls like you (16)

You like boys (21)

How great is it that you can buy over-the-counter Viagra now? (61)

Sleep Patterns

You like a nap in the afternoon. You’re cranky at bedtime and up with the lark. (3)

You are a creature of the night. (17)

You’re up all night (21)

You like the odd early night and late morning (25)

You’re up at the toilet all night and you nap all day. (79)

Would Be Rude Not To

You could entertain yourself for hours. (14)

You entertain each other all the time (23)

You entertain each other fairly often (34)

You entertain each other once in a while (45)

Mood

You are a proper Sunny Jim (1)

You gripe a bit at bedtime (6)

Schooldays were the happiest… (14)

First love is the sweetest…(16)

…After the hurly burly (30)

Someone’s parked outside our house! (35)

My name is Victor Meldrew (65)

Total your scores and divide by five. The resulting number corresponds to your hormonal age. For further information consult your GP who will likely tell you to go and boil your head. Not that I’d agree with that point of view as I really like the idea of a male menopause. It’s companionable.

*The questionnaire is only valid for male use. If females do it they may get skewed results. For example my own hormonal age was 49!

The Great Root Vegetable Robbery

Mince, onion and carrots was on the menu for tonight's supper. There was just one problem - no carrots. Bert says,

Never worry. Sure I dug a bucket of carrots the other day. They're in one of the sheds.

Goodoh. You going to fetch them?

Mmm. Yeah. Except I can't remember which shed they're in.

I don't know what it is he gets up to that gives him such a poor recall of recent events. Anyway out he goes armed with big torch to return minutes later in a rage.

Some bastard's away with our carrots!

You're joking! Maybe you were in the wrong shed?

No! I found the bucket I put them in. They're away - every last one of them!

This was strange. Who'd nick a bucket of carrots and not even take the bucket? It's only a week or two since we were robbed of a stone of beetroot out of the tractor shed. Once again the thief (or thieves) took the veggies but left the containers.



It wasn't a pleasant thought that some vegetable thief was sneaking about our yard robbing our roots but it was very strange that they were leaving the containers behind. If I was out pinching beetroot I'd definitely take the buckets and trays they were in. So we thought again. Maybe it was Ratty that made off with the beetroot and carrots? But Ratty tends to gnaw food where he finds it. He makes a mess. Our veggie thief didn't leave as much as a leaf behind.

So this left Mr Nutkin. I truly believe that somewhere around this place there's a big-tailed grey fecker sitting on a mound of beetroot and carrots that would choke a donkey. And to think it was only yesterday I was giving out to Bert about trying to blast Tufty out of the trees. I'll be positively encouraging him from now on.

BLAMMM! Take that ye beetroot-munching bastard!

Radio Stars

Bert was not one bit impressed that Ed got to meet Hugo Duncan.

He was ripping, though, that I did not use my new-found BBC connections to wangle some inside info on his hero - Gerry Anderson.

World's Smallest Political Quiz

With the Assembly elections looming I thought I'd better check my political leanings to see which candidate would be best fit with my ideals. Once again I find I'm a Libertarian. Now where do I go from here?

Green Car

I got another car this evening. Bert bought it for me...he'd do anything rather than drive me to work.

Then I drove it to Belfast International to pick up Jamie. Don't ask me what the car looks like because I haven't actually seen it yet. It was dark. I'm told it's green.

The Ship Was Stupid Too

I watched a film last night - The Day After Tomorrow. It was tosh. I think I was awake while it was on but there were so many loopholes and inconsistencies that robbed it of sense. I had the impression that the original movie was about a week long and that they edited it down to a load of unbelievable bollocks. And whose idea was the wolves? Wolves just don't act like that. No matter how cold and hungry they are.

And reporters out doing live broadcasts with no hats on! In the worst weather ever! And you take refuge in a library, probably the only building in the city not bursting with food. And you burn books to keep warm? Bert says books make hopeless fires. I wonder how he knows that?

Jake Gyllenhall was crapola and the guy who played his dad - who was he? I vaguely know his face from somewhere. One of those bland, forgettable faces.

So that's how I put in an hour and a half last night. When I could have been blogging. Blogging about the collapse of my political ambitions. For now I know I'll never lead a major political party, not with the number of people who've passed me a doozie in my day.

Cheer Up. Why Don't You?

I had a little episode last night when everything just got too much for me. I was making supper at the time. What sparked it off? Well, for a start, Bert brought the wrong sort of cabbage. So it was that I was quietly sobbing into the cottage pie when Swisser, the first of our supper guests, arrived.

Hi everyone! Here I am!

Hi.

Are you alright?

No. I'm not

What's wrong. Is Bert being horrible to you?

No. He's been very good to me.

Well never mind. Here's a celeriac. That should cheer you up. It's organic.

Thanks.

Ed Sell Granny?

1. A ratty tosser
2. Changing
3. Girl ends away
4. A rabbi sent poo
5. Yew boozer
6. Butchered one
7. Is a dancer
8. Ye rascals
9. Go sue ego troll
10. Naked ax genius
11. Hot corner genius
12. Honey van Hall
    

It's a quiz. Some are easy - some are not.

I'll Risk It

I don't know if I'm cut out for office work. Certainly I can handle the pleasant telephone manner, "Good afternoon, this is Blah Blah Solutions. Nelly speaking." I even answer whilst grinning like an ape smiling, as I'm certain that this can be transmitted along the telephone wires. Maybe if the office was busier it'd be better. Today I received my first telephone call at 2pm. It was Matty and she was only calling because I'd called her previously to ring me to check the phone was actually working.

Today I mostly researched the last 35 years of Doonesbury. I reckon it could be my specialist subject in Mastermind. If Bert was a Doonesbury character he'd be Zonker Harris. I used to fancy Zonker but now I think I'd go for B.D. Was that a Freudian slip?

Bloggers Do It Better

For reasons I'm not quite ready to go into yet* I've been feeling very down recently. And particularly so today. So it's a big thankyewverymuch to Sandra for making me laugh (out loud) at her hilarious post and to Ed for his breathtakingly cheeky comment on that very same post.

*Ach it's probably just my age. And having no wheels because my car is totally banjaxed.

I Miss This

Slemish at Sunrise, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Sometimes I wish I still lived down the road. The view was better.

And I wasn't so worried.

The house was cosier and easier to clean.

It wasn't so close to the road

And it was our house.

I miss it.

Sibling Rivalry

Humph! It shows, it bloody shows. I live in a backwater - every day it's Cullybackey to Kells, Kells to Cullybackey - the only bit of life I ever see is the occasional shopping trip to Lidl's. And there is Ganching - centre of the universe, North London, John Lewis, a Mac v. PC debate going on in her blog, intellectual commenters coming out of her ears. It's so maddening. All I've got to show on my blog is cute Holly pictures.

But I liked David's comment. And in case you missed it -

There's a small corner of heaven reserved for mac-users. It looks a bit like an Ian Schrager boutique hotel and you get given a freshly laundered black polo neck every day.

I wish someone would give me a freshly laundered black polo every day. It'd surely be better than moulting cheap black cashmere over the office Mac.

Where Is Cybez?

Error 400?

Pearlie

Pearlie is going to be 81 this coming Saturday. Last year we held an 80th birthday party which she really enjoyed. Last year she said she wanted a party every year from now on.

This year she says she wants 'no fuss'. Which is OK. Pearlie has lost over three stone since last year. She has lost her appetite and much of her mobility. There will be a 'this year' but, I fear, no 'next year'.

Happy Birthday Student Sister

Happy Birthday!

One Week In

I am perfecting the art of one of those offhand, squiggly signatures that says, "I have far too many important letters to sign to take the time to write legibly innit?"

I have not yet mastered the intricacies of the internal phone system. When the boss is out I practice like mad and send many calls (from my mobile) to his office and it all works perfectly. But when he is in his office the phone turns on me, makes me look like a bollix when I only manage to get 1 in 3 calls patched through. He's awfully good about it though.

I must be a responsible mature person because he's off skiing all next week and I'm managing the office by myself. In fact I'm so responsible (or paranoid?) that I am already worrying that the building will burn down during the weekend.*

*If it does burn down I'll probably do time after writing the above and that will be the end of this blog.

Hi! It's Holly De Cat!

Me just hanging about

Yay! Hi guys! Holly here! Ya know I'm the youngest one at Nellybert's now, 'cept for me and Bonnie the rest are a bunch of boring old farts. Bert's OK, Nelly is dull-dull-dull and Rosie n Paddy are beyond dull.

All Nelly does is housework and cakes and hunch over that stupid computer. She goes men-tal if I walk on it when she's doing dullness on it. Least when Bert's playing the clarinet he doesn't yell at me if I show some interest.

Me and my bezzie mate

If I ever get the chance (as if!) I'm getting a Bebo page and this is what I'm sort of thinking about so far. Wot u think?

Stuff I like

• Claro music
• Meat
• Hanging about
  
• Hanging about in bags
• Hanging about with Bonnie
• Fighting
• Spar bags
• Bert
• Fish
• Mice
• Racing
• Sleeping
• Climbing

The Other Half Of Me

• Bonnie. She's the best

Hanging (again)

Class Meets Ass

But which is which?

I kind of like Anna Wintour. She's got a good look and all the better for leaving off the big sunnies. But I sure hope that coat is fake fur for I like cats more than Ms Wintour.

Now Sienna. You clown. You attention-seeking little madam. Out in your pantie-girdle and not a skirt to your name. You don't even need a girdle. Still I suppose it is a better look than flashing the fan like Britney et al.

How Come?

Our phone line has had a fault on it - so says BT. They also say the engineer will have it fixed by tomorrow. So, how come the phone hasn't worked for two days yet I've still got an internet connection?

First Days

There are lots of first days in temping work. The run up to them is always nerve wracking. After the angst the actual first day is almost always a doddle. Today was no exception.

It's the third or fourth days that can be problematical. Those are the days when the employer might start to think, is this one ever going to get the hang of this?

I meant to swot the company on the web last night but I watched the Big Brother final instead. Jermaine Jackson was robbed. Not to say that Shilpa wasn't a worthy winner but...I cannot help thinking that they rig the vote. What perfection that she should win after her ordeal at the hands of Jade the Obscene. Methinks a fix.

I cannot help feeling sorry for Danielle though. She makes it to the final night and comes out to find she's a dumped social pariah. And what about Jack? Sitting on Russell Brand's show as large as life and as if he hadn't rode to 'fame' on the coat tails of Britain's most hated woman.

Do you know something? I've just decided. I'm never going to appear on TV.

Not a lot of people know this but Bert was on TV once. The Ulster News as it happens. Someone was being interviewed on the streets of Ballyclare and Bert just wandered past. He was wearing a light-coloured jacket and someone had written on it the legend,

I am a TV

Bert was not aware of any of this. He was going to a bun shop and all that was in his head was sausage rolls and currant squares.

Another person of my acquaintance that has appeared on the News is Swisser. She would normally be pontificating about the importance of eating breakfast or some such nutritional-type nugget of information. She's always going on about that sort of thing - even when she's not on Tv and only at Nellybert's for her tea. She'll be going on and on about transfats and carcinogens. I just say to her,

Leave work at work. Now shut up and eat your Jenny Bristow Pear Tart and never mind what sort of butter I used!

And speaking of butter the Wee Manny said he wasn't the better of the other Saturday night until the following Wednesday. He said he only had half an Interesting Brownie. But Ploppy Pants reports that he savaged three into him around about two in the morning. And had to be put to bed!

Keenog Stan

A man travelled to a distant land. As he travelled through the country he came to a beautiful city. He was so impressed by the buildings he saw that he stopped a man in the street and said, "Who built this beautiful city?" The man replied, "Keenog Stan."

The traveller came to a wonderful garden. Again he asked a passer-by, "Who designed this wonderful garden?" The woman replied, "Keenog Stan."

In the garden he saw a glorious rose bush. The scent was the most delicious he had ever come across. He asked a gardener, "Who grew this beautiful rose?" The gardener answered him with, "Keenog Stan." The traveller thought that this Keenog Stan must be a very remarkable person.

And so it went on. Every wonderful thing that the traveller saw had been designed, built, developed, invented by Keenog Stan - which meant "I do not understand" in the language of the country.

I was very impressed with this fable when I first encountered it in Wide Range Readers: Blue Book 5 at age eight or so. Does anyone else remember these readers? There were also Green Books which we didn't use. I was sure that Green Books were sure to be much more interesting than our Blue Books and were probably kept for the exclusive use of those sophisticated Protestants.

How Very Dare You!

Bert is watching television. Nelly is stomping around the kitchen. Bert shouts for Nelly to come see something.

Bert: Here! Look at that! You should go in for that. You'd be great at that.

Nelly: What! Strictly Lady Sumo?

Bert: Yeah! You could do that.

Nelly: Let me tell you this young-fellow-me-lad. If I were to go in for that you would be a sorry boy! A very sorry boy indeed!

Bugger That

Sore back has returned. Baa'stard!

Not Another New Job!

Yes indeedy. I start next Monday.

This couldn't have come at a better time for I was starting to realise that the hands-on caring work was not for me. Hurting my back scared me to bits. I'd always have been worried about it happening again.

No details on the new job other than I'll be working for a young businessman who is a friend of a friend.

Good Advice

"Sandra don't listen to Nelly as you know what a blether she is."

So says Ganching. And she should know.

But seriously folks - the purpose of this blog is to amuse myself and, hopefully, occasionally, to amuse others. It's not to offend or 'get at' people. It seems that I may have offended someone over the past few days and for that I am sorry. It wasn't my intention.

Feel free to contact me on my email if you want to talk about this outside the public domain.

Colour Quiz

Nelly took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Seeks success, stimulation, and a life full of exp..." Click here to read the rest of the results.

Thanks to Rolpol for the link

I Got Those Goddamned Sore Back Blues

If I were an old time blues singer (and I'd love to be) I'd be called Big Fat Mama Nelly Moser and my signature tune would be 'Those Ol' Sore Back Blues'.

If Bert were an ol' time blues player he'd be Blind Bobby John Orr and he'd be famous for singing and playing 'My Ol' Fat Mama Don't Jelly Roll No More'.

So guess who has been on SoulSeek adding to her blues collection?

Ouchie!

I mentioned on Friday that I hurt my back at work but, being a brave and uncomplaining soul, haven't mentioned it since.

Well - on Saturday morning it was difficult getting out of bed and I was well pissed off about it. But after a few co-codamol, a 40 minute walk and a hot bath I was reasonably fine.

Yesterday it seemed to have stiffened up again but after the painkiller, walk and bath treatment it was grand by last night and I was all set for work today.

This morning it was great - hardly a twinge and I set off for work. Maybe a little bit sore getting out of the car but nothing much - then...

Maybe it was a bit of an atmosphere I sensed, maybe it was the cold, maybe apprehension that the work expected of me was physical but whatever, the next thing my back went into a sort of spasm. The worst pain yet. I sent myself home.

So here I am. Sore to sit down, sore to stand and sore to walk. I'm dosed to the eyeballs with painkillers and I've got a hottie stuffed down the back of my trousers. As if my arse wasn't big enough.

I Never Read Moby Dick

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Dedicated Reader You are always trying to find the time to get back to your book. You are convinced that the world would be a much better place if only everyone read more.
Book Snob
Literate Good Citizen
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Fad Reader
Non-Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

Found at El Capitan's

Go on Ganching. Bet you're a book snob! Bet Marc's one too.

And Ed - a Literate Good Citizen?

That Hurts

I hurt my back this morning while helping a small, disabled man from a car to a wheelchair. I was following all the correct procedures, using a handling belt and so on but it's an awkward move and this man can be a dead weight at times. Next thing I felt something pull in my lower back.

It has moved up to the middle of my back now but here's hoping it will be all gone by the morning. I'm on medication of course - Chardonnay and co-codamol. And Matty is praying for me. I'll be grand in the morning.

A Cold Goodbye

Pearlie saw her specialist today. She is not much the wiser about what ails her but she has been told she will have an endoscopy procedure done at some time in the future.

While Bert and she were at the hospital I went to my Aunt's funeral with Leitrim Sister and Matty. Not so many of Matty's generation around now. They're either gone or too ill to go to funerals. I met around thirty of my cousins and we're getting to be the oldies now. Nearly all of us as grey as badgers and the rest either dyed or bald. Except Leitrim Sister who still sports a full head of ginger (ahem! I mean auburn) curls.

The funeral service was one of the best I've ever heard. For once the priest spoke of a real person rather than a plaster saint. My Aunt was not the easiest of women yet he described her in a way that highlighted her humanity, helped me to understand her eccentricities, her outspokenness and made me wish I'd had more time for her. A lesson learned. We froze at her graveside. I'm sure it served me right.

1932-2007

Mattyspeak

In Matty's world people do not experience concern or merely worry. No. In Matty's world people are 'demented' or 'demented with worry'. And you'd never be poorly or ill - in order of seriousness you would be,

• not well
• not a bit well
• not one bit well
• awaitin' on
• annointed
• dead
• buried

For example: Your Uncle Davy is not one bit well. His one's are demented about him.

In her world a person does not disapprove of something. They are 'dead nuts against it'.

Your Vancouver Brother is dead nuts against tablets.

Tablets? What d'ye mean?

He's dead nuts against all the tablets I'm on. He says I've no need of them and that the doctors are all pill-pushers.

His arse! Sure isn't it the tablets that are keeping all youse oul wans living?

I told him that. I told him I needed all my tablets except that wee sleeping tablet. I don't really need it but I like it.

Sure it does you no harm.

Aye! But you'll die when you hear this one. The third day he was here he told me he got a great night's sleep. Says he took one of my sleeping tablets!

And after him giving off too.

Aye. I told him he could have one more of them and then he'd got his gettings!

A Nest of Vipers...

...you know who y'all are.

On my mind -

Pearlie. She's got a hospital appointment tomorrow. What is gastrenterology? Is this why she doesn't like eating?

Matty. Her sister died on Sunday and she's very sad.

Old People In General. So worrying. They get sick and then they die.

Bonnie. Covered in boils and on heat. The vet says it's nothing to fret about. And that will be another twenty of your fine pounds.

The Aforementioned Nest. Why can't people be nice? Or at least pretend to be.

Extreme Cooking

Our local celebrity chef Jenny Bristow is, in my opinion, up there with Nigella, Jamie and the rest of them.

Her unique appeal lies in that she can create new ideas and twists using affordable ingredients that are ready available in any local or high street shop,

I'm confident in saying that Jenny's recipes are so well designed that successful results can be guaranteed even when the cook is drunk.

Inspired by Jenny's example and using her brownie recipe I created my own unique twist using ingredients not easily found in any local or high street shop.

Cybez' recipe for Nigerian Groundnut Stew went down well with the carnivores while the veggies relished a meat-free chili dish. We had parsnip soup to begin and apple & raspberry crumble to finish.

Everything seemed a little topsy-turvy last night. At one point during a conversation with Swisser I realised that she was making total sense while I was talking bollocks. How strange.

I was fast asleep by 11pm while everyone else stayed up until 2am. Was it the wine, the brownies, exhaustion? Who knows? But I do know this - the way I felt this morning makes me glad that getting stoned is becoming an annual event rather than a daily one.

Interesting Brownies...

are very interesting indeed.

What's Cookin'?

I'm making Nigerian Groundnut Stew and Interesting Brownies tonight. Please pray for me and my guests.

AND.....a very Happy Berliner Birthday to Ganching!

Bert Cooks Plain Dinners But Pearlie Disnae Like Them

On Tuesday we had mince, onions and carrots for dinner. Pearlie told her niece,

I suppose it was alright. I couldnae eat the oul carrots because my teeth were in the kitchen and I wouldn't ask Bert to bring them into me for he'd only be shouting at me.

He cooked liver for dinner yesterday evening. When he asked Pearlie what she thought of it she said,

I didnae think much o' it.

Tonight it was steak pie and mushy peas. She accepted it with fairly good grace and asked for salt and pepper. He brought her the salt and pepper shakers from the kitchen.

I dinnae like them oul salt and pepper dusters. Bring me them ither salt and pepper dusters from the kitchen...

Another True Story

It was when the brother lived in London that he knew this guy, in his early thirties, who still lived with his old Mum and Dad who were very good to him.

Yerman was by no means a druggie but he took a liking to smoking cannabis after falling in with some bad company.

Of course his elderly folks being unworldly types would have had no idea that their young fellow would be getting into such devilment so yerman was in a bit of a quandary when he found that the remains of his ten-deal was missing from his bedside table. So he says,

Mother! Have you been cleaning my room again?

Yes son. I've been up cleaning your room. Why? What's up?

Did you throw anything away? Something on my bedside table?

Like what son?

Er. Um. Like a bit of mud?

Mud?

And his father goes,

Mud! What you mean mud? Have you not been cleaning his room properly Mother?

Wot's A Dimella?

Yes. Guilty as charged. I'm watching Celebrity Big Brother or, as Ken Russell would have it, Nonentity Big Brother. And tonight Jackiey was booted off. It was just as well as she was one of the most cringingly awful contestants ever. Having the mother on the show was a good move for Jade as people will have even more sympathy for her now that they see the awful parent she has had to put up with.

And what's with the Y at the end of Jackiey? I totally hate people who spell their names in a stupid way. It would be like Ed calling himself Edd or Marc calling himself Marck. It's just wrong. Sometimes, I'll admit, it's the parent's fault but I'm sure Jackiey's parents didn't put that abomination on her birth certificate.

People let a wise woman advise you. If you must use crappy names keep them for your dogs* or cats or hamsters. Not your precious children.

• Some Good Names for Boys: Matthew, Marc, Luke, John, Stephen, Alexander, Edward, Manuel, Seamus/James, Robert, Thomas
  
• Some Bad Names for Boys: Carisenda, Dylan, Jermajesty, Darren, Kian, Jordan, Spike
• Some Good Names For Girls: Martha, Mary, Jane, Hannah, Elizabeth, Charlotte, Eleanor
• Some Bad names For Girls: Chardonnay, Jade, Amber, Ganching, Peaches, Nelliey
  

I think I've had a rant about this before but it was ages ago and what's the point of a blog if a body can't have a whinge about a pet hate.

*And speaking of pets - perhaps you shouldn't give your dog a crappy name either unless it is a particularly stupid sort of dog like the kind starlets carry around in their handbags.

Some Like It Hot

We got our electricity bill today. It was in three figures. More than four hundred pounds. What do you think of that then? That is some giant carbon footprint.

So what do you think we are up to then? Rearing battery chicks? No. Running a cannabis farm? No. Taking in washing? Yes. But not that much.

There can only be one reason for such a huge bill and that is Pearlie. Pearlie likes to be cosy and warm and no harm in that at her age. But she uses all at the same time:

· Oil-fired central heating

· A Super Ser (gas heater)

· Two electric fires

The heat in her mobile home would make a normal person faint. I’m convinced it killed her dog. I cannot sit there with her for more than thirty minutes at a time before getting multiple hot flushes. The place is like a furnace. She even keeps the heat on in the summer time. If it gets too warm she throws open the kitchen door and you can see the heat haze shimmering out.

My mother visited her the other evening.

There’s some heat in here Pearlie.

D’ye think so? I feel no great heat.

She keeps an electric fire in her bedroom... Despite this she always takes a hot water bottle and there used to be an electric blanket too but Bert banned it on health and safety grounds. She now puts on two cardigans and a head scarf before retiring.

Bert had a word with her about the electricity bill. She denied it had anything to do with her. She said,

It’s youse ones! Always burning lights. I see them lights on all the time and many the time I thocht to mysel’ them boys must have plenty of money with niver turning them lights off!

Today I Have Been Mostly...

Listening to...

He Just Doesn't Have The Balls

Paddy came to us from the Crosskennan Animal Sanctuary and as is the custom they neutered him before rehoming him. This is the proper course to take, as neutered animals do not produce more unwanted offspring. Yet at the very start I got an impression that Paddy was pissed off at losing his cojones. I think he might have been quite a player in his day.

Rosie was a neutered rescue dog from the Dog's Trust so Paddy has never encountered an on season bitch since he came to live with us. He’s never seemed to miss ‘that side of things’ - that is until now. For Bonnie has all her bits in place and she’s coming on to heat and Paddy is ever so excited. It seems that when they took away his mechanics they didn’t take away his interest. The pair of them are cavorting and bottom-sniffing and he’s trying to get in there. It is bound to end in disappointment for one or both of them. Just as well really. Can you imagine the mutts those two would have produced?

Explicit

Homophobic Bus Driver: D’ye watch that Celebrity Big Brother last night?

Nelly: Yeah. I forgot it was on. Only saw the last twenty minutes.

HBD: Y’see that one out of Steps? Says he’s gay now. What d’ye think of that?

Nelly: Good timing. Good publicity for his career. Do him no harm.

HBD: Y’see that Ken Russell? He used to make very explicit films didn’t he?

Nelly: Yeah. Got a surprise there. Didn’t see him coming in. Thought he was Charlie Drake at first glimpse.

HBD: Y’see that Women In Love?

Nelly: Oh yes. Remember the nude wrestling scene?

HBD: Oh yes. I remember that. Very explicit wasn’t it?

Nelly: You think so?

HBD: Remember that Last Tango In Paris? That was very explicit wasn’t it?

Nelly: For the time.

HBD: You like explicit films?

Nelly: You mean sexually explicit?

HBD: Oh yes.

Nelly: Tell you the truth I prefer a good war film. Blood and guts, exploding shells, heads, that sort of thing.

The Visitor's Book 2006

Here are some of the comments left in Nellybert’s Visitor’s Book over the holiday period.

…. Nelly said it was Christmas Dinner but it wisnae! It wis beef and ye haftae hae fowl for Christmas Dinner! Nelly was that cheeky when I said – she said it was a dinner and it was Christmas and I was tae come ower before it got cowl and to tell you the truth she trailt me ower aginst my will. And her oul puddin’ was rotten too, it was as bitter as gall…

…. I always spend my New Year’s birthday at Nellybert’s and you’d think I’d get a bed by now but it was still the bloody sofa.

…. Nelly forgot to make the vegetarian gravy so I had to make do with cheese sauce which was exceptionally good. She did make me a special stuffing and it was yum-yum but there was something about it…you’d nearly have thought…but surely not? Nelly wouldn’t do that…would she?….

…It was great at Nelly’s. You should have seen all the toys Bert got from Santa. He got a rocking horse and a crane and he let me play with them. He wouldn’t let me play with his guns and he’s got three and they’re real ones too. Then Nelly showed me Harry de Cat’s grave and it’s got tiles on top. Nelly says that’s to stop Mr Fox digging him up which wouldn’t be very nice because he’s a skellington now. Nelly and me went for a really long walk in Portglenone Forest then she wouldn’t let me go to the shop for sweets because her exhaust fell off…

…Martina and me showed Nelly our Bebo pages and Nelly told Mum that I said I was 16 on mine and that Martina had a photo on hers with a Benson in her mouth. She’s a tout. You couldn’t tell her anything.

…The dinner was very nice but I swear to God you could not move through that house without bumping into some sort of an animal. Zoë had her wee dog Gracie out with her and though it’s a lovely looking wee thing, and there they were all oohing and aahing about how cute and sweet it was to see her playing with the new kitten, I saw the dirty looks that wee brute was giving that kitten when it thought no one was watching. I’d not like to leave them on their own for too long…

This year our visitors were Zoë, Dave, Hannah, Jamie, Eamon, Mel, PP, Jenny, Marty, Jazzer, Swisser, Martina, Erin, Ben, John, Buffy, Dirt Bird, Pearlie and Gracie. Ganching sent her apologies and some rather nice presents.

Happy New Year

The Last Of Christmas

Christmas Meme

El Capitan tagged me with this. It’s still Christmas so...

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
Wrapping paper. This year I didn’t have to buy any as I’d loads left over from last year and I remembered where I’d left it. And I bought hardly any presents.

2. Real tree or artificial?
Real. We have thousands of the buggers growing in the fields. They are starting to get rather big.

3. When do you put up the tree?
Awfully close to Christmas unless some darling person, like Hannah, does it for me.

4. When do you take the tree down?
Holly de Cat is already working on the dismantling. I’ll finish the job next weekend. This weekend I’ve got the young Banjos coming to stay.

5. Do you like eggnog?
It’s vile beyond belief.

6. Favourite gift you received as a child?
My first tricycle.

7. Do you have a nativity scene?
No. I’m going to ask Zoë to knit me one for next year.

8. Hardest person to buy for?
Katy. Amazon won’t let me send her present.

9. Easiest person to buy for?
Bert. He’s happy with anything.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards?
I haven’t sent Christmas cards for more than ten years.

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?
This is a public blog. I loved all my gifts.

12. Favourite Christmas movie?
Don’t have one.


13. When do you start shopping?
In a bad year the week before Christmas

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
Yes.

15. Favourite thing to eat at Christmas?
Turkey, stuffing, Brussels sprouts, pudding, trifle, chocolate, mince pies, cake….

16. Clear lights or coloured on the tree?
Coloured

17. Favourite Christmas song?
Santa Baby – Eartha Kitt

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home?
Home.

19. Can you name all of Santa’s Reindeers?
Not without googling.

20. Angel on the tree top or a star?
The kitten chewed the angel so it was a star.

21. Open the presents on Christmas Eve or morning?
Christmas morning.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year?
The commercial aspect of Christmas. People buying cruddy crap that nobody sane should want. Shopping frenzies.

23. Do you have Jesus in your heart this Christmas?
No. Too many people have preached at me this year and I’m feeling peeved with God-botherers.

24. What would you like for Christmas?
Exactly the same as El Capitan. A ball of money to pay off debts. Then I’d live within my means for ever. Swear I would.

I shan’t tag anyone. Only if you feel like it.

Every Picture Tells A Story

Well I think our Christmas blogmeet went well. Zoe's got some pictures for anyone interested in that sort of thing. Although the Beach Octopus*, a lovely girl, seems to have cleverly avoided appearing in any of them.

We fought our way through thick fog and high mountains to get there, some of us travelled from the far Northern regions (of America, London and Manchesterland), some of us got up at 4am that morning and worked the Nixt! Sale and still managed to attend. Some of us even had to bate our way past worried priests and anxious Mammys to make it to Johnny Joe's on time.

To those of you who couldn't make it - of course we talked about you. But it was all good.

*You really had to be there. Unless Katkins is reading?

St Stephen's Day

We're having Boxing Day dinner at 4pm. And I'm back to work tomorrow so there will be no blogging until Thursday - after the Blogmeet.

So that's McCollam's (Johnny Joe's), Cushion Doll (Cushendall) tomorrow at around 8pm.

So Here It Is...

Merry Christmas....EVERYONE!

Oh! Christmas Tree

Christmas preparations are under way.

Bert was dispatched to the Christmas Tree Fields this morning and returned with a passable specimen. Apparently he was nearly crying when he cut it down. He'd have been crying even harder if he'd had to fork out 20 quid for a shop bought one.

I've just finished decorating it with some hindrance from Holly de Cat. I'm not one of those sophisticates who themes and colour coordinates the tree. Instead I hoke out the thirty years accumulation of decos and smother it so that the finished effect looks like I stood on a tall stepladder and poured tinsel and shiny things out of a bucket.

Meanwhile out at the old homestead Vancouver Brother is busy looking after Ganching and Matty who are both a bit poorly. Ganching has pleurisy and Matty has inflammation of the eye. Get well soon people.

Ganching should be recovered enough to make the Cushion Doll blogmeet but I doubt she'll be dancing on the tables.

Too Good For Cats

This basket looks awesome. It's far too good to waste on that stinking kitten.

If I can just get myself positioned right it will fit me to a tee!

What do you mean it's too small?

See! Told you!

Peformance Art

How did the teaching practice go?

Teaching practice?

You know - that thing you were doing tonight. Teaching that lot about word processing – that thing you’ve been working at for the last week. Did you make a good job of it? Did it go smoothly? Did you get yourself in a big tizzy?

In a big tizzy? I don’t know where you get the idea that any of that stuff matters one tiny little bit. I wasn’t doing Teaching Practice. I was doing Performance Art if you must know. It’s not about things going smoothly and getting it right or anything like that. It’s Art! And as Art it went very well thanks very much for asking!

Nelly's Recipes: No. 1

CHEESE SCONE RECIPE

You will need

• Neill’s Soda Bread Flour (200g)
• Butter (50g)
• Strong cheddar cheese
• 1 egg
• Buttermilk
• Salt & Black Pepper
• Dried mustard or paprika

Rub the butter into the flour until it resembles very fine breadcrumbs. (Tip: cut butter into small pieces for ease of breadcrumbing)

Add salt (go easy), black pepper (good sprinkle and one teaspoon dried mustard or half teaspoon of paprika.

Add at least 50g of grated cheese. You can add up to 100g but bear in mind that extra cheese will give the scones a heavier texture. They’ll still be yummy.

Mix in the beaten egg and enough buttermilk to make firm dough. Shape the dough on a floured surface into a piece about a finger thick (if, like mine, your fingers are fat). You can cut these into eight squarish scones. Place on a greased baking tray. (Tip: If you add too much liquid and your dough turns out a bit soggy just lash it on to a tray without shaping or cutting and call it bread.)

Cook in a fairly hot oven for 10-12 minutes. Longer if baking bread.

Actually I just fling all the ingredients, except the buttermilk, into a Magimix and let it rip. Then I add the buttermilk in dribs and drabs until I get the consistency I want.

(Tip: Scones or bread are ready to come out of the oven if they make a hollow sound when you tap them.)

Worried

Bert has taken Holly de Cat to the vet after I secured an emergency appointment. We think one of the dogs has hurt her. There is nothing obvious on the outside but she vomited blood.

Update: The vet's opinion is that Holly has not been hurt. She thinks she has a stomach infection. She has received an injection, has been given medication and is to be kept hydrated. If she does not improve in the next 24 hours we are to bring her back.

I Am A Domestic Goddess And I Am Drunk

Swisser called in last night, on her way back from the airport, after collecting her son Conor who was back from his first term at Glasgow University.

She said on the phone,

He's malnourished you know. Living on rice and pasta. I was eating a pear while I was talking to him on the phone and he said, 'What are you eating?' and I said 'A pear,' and he said, 'I haven't had a pear for months!'.

So I decided to give myself a wee break from the studying and lesson preparation and do a bit of baking. There's nothing an ould doll like myself enjoys better than cooking for an appreciative (and hungry) young fellow. I baked an apple tart, a pineapple and coconut sponge, cheese scones and apple and cinnamon scones. I knew that Conor would go mad when his mother suggested calling in with us.

Mother! Nellybert is so boring! I want to get home!

There will be cake. Nelly is baking us cake.

Alright then.

When Swisser saw the spread I'd made she said,

Don't leave it all out at once. He won't be able to control himself.

I said,

Let him eat away. Didn't you say he was starving?

He spilled through the door. He is six foot four. He is a man now although a man newly hatched. He ate and he ate and he ate. I packed more into a box and sent them home with him. For his brother. His brother will be lucky to be left a morsel. When he was leaving he said,

Thanks for the cake.

The cheese scone was awesome so I made it again tonight. And I made curried parsnip soup. Apart from doing that I worked all day long at my studies. Then I decided to fall to the drink. Why not?

Christmas Blogmeet

The Guardian just gave away a big Posy Simmonds illustrated poster of an endangered species, i.e. Guardian Readers. This picture represents that famous Guardian Reader, our own dear Ganching. 'Course it looks nothing like her as she'd not be seen dead in leggings. For they don't make leggings in tweed, do they?

Ganching and Sandra and myself and, possibly, the girleens Zoe and Hannah are planning to get together somewhere on the North Antrim Coast on the 27th December. And you can come too - if you think you're hard enough. Get in touch.

And Mr Bolan - you'll be with us in spirit.

Staying Focused

It is said that men and women have very different approaches to work. Women are adept at multitasking while men focus on the task in hand to the exclusion of all others. Far be it from me to suggest that this rule applies to all women and men but it certainly applies to Nellybert.

I’ve been really busy this week as I have the first of three teaching practice sessions this coming Tuesday. I’ve been working on it for over a week now and even took two days off my paid work to get stuck into it. Of course I ended up spending one of those days sailing Matty round the country visiting poorly sisters and so on. When the pressure is on my patience with Matty wears thin. Everything takes forever when she’s involved. If she sees a queue she gets in it – the longer the better. It must be a consequence of having lived through The War. And she keeps wandering off and when I do find her she’s usually squandering our inheritance doing a scratch card. By the time I got her home it was far too dark for a nice brisk sanity-restoring walk and I was just about ready to kill somebody. Bert?

Meanwhile Bert is totally focused on a manly task. Time hangs heavy on his hands during winter and this month he’d already restored his childhood rocking horse and learnt three new things on the clarinet when Bap called round. And Bap saw the staircase. And Bap was very cross indeed.

Bap is in his mid-fifties and I’ve known him forever. Like many of us he was one cool dude in his younger days but now he’s turned into ‘Yer Da’. It must be a consequence of having two 20 something sons who, despite being real cool dudes themselves, need a lot of fatherly advice about keeping their motors in order and so on. Anyway Bap starts on Bert.

Have you never sorted out those banister rails yet? I don’t know how you can live with yourself! I’d not rest until I’d three coats of varnish on those!

Bert laughed it off to Bap’s face. But it was only a day or two later he got stuck in. And he’s been doing it for ever now. And he’s so smug about it. Thinks he’s a helluva fella. But it is all he does. Cares he not a bit for filthy floors, empty grates, starving kittens, menopausal women or Christmas. He just leaps joyously out of bed every morning at around 10 and sands and varnishes and sands and varnishes. Then he plays the clarinet all evening.

And there’s me trying to learn the lesson content, prepare a lesson plan, do laundry, shop, clean, cook, blog, walk the dogs, go to work, mind my Mammy and all the rest of it. Sometimes I really do wish I was a man. Life would be so much simpler.

Goldminers

During the time I worked in Spide City I got to know a few predatory men who’d hang about the place. They weren’t particularly nice characters although you couldn’t have told the hostel residents that – they thought these kind and generous fellows were just great.

The one I knew best was Jim. He had just one special friend in the hostel. She was eighteen, looked and acted younger, and he was at least thirty years older. He’d first met her when she was in the Children’s Home. He’d run a sweet shop quite close to the Home and he befriended the kids. He’d gone up in the world since then and now he made his living at the milder edge of the skin trade – lap dancers, strippers and so on. Since then I heard he’s making sex videos. He was a smart operator and his special friend was very pretty and mildly learning disabled. She was also severely mentally troubled. He’d take her away for the weekend and keep her drugged up. Who knows what happened? She was an adult. She didn’t complain.

Then there was Neville. He dressed like a tramp but he was a successful businessman with a bookie’s shop and a pub. He drove a Mercedes and kept the glove compartment well stocked with cigarettes, cannabis and sweets. His modus operandi was to make friends with the older women first, win their confidence, and then access their younger friends or their daughters. He was known to the police but nobody had ever complained.

I heard the stories about the parties and the young girls he shared with his sleazy friends but there was nothing I could do.

Those guys were pimps – they kept the really young ones for themselves and sent older girls out on the streets. They told them how much they’d earn out there and sure they were only getting money for what they’d give away for free.

You’re sitting on a goldmine girl!

The saddest thing was that the likes of Neville would often get an older girl to chat the newbies into it. He'd provide the lift. But if there was any trouble he'd just drive off and leave the girl or girls stranded. And if those young women were lucky the police found them and brought them back and when that happened it was me or my colleagues who listened to them as they told us the stories of what had happened, how scared they were and how little, if anything, they got for what they did.

Of course it's the current news from Ipswich that has got me thinking about this. Joan Smith of the Guardian has a good perspective on the way the media is dealing with the story.

Stranger Than Fiction

The world's tallest man put his abnormally long arms to use in order to help a pair of dolphins that had swallowed plastic shards. Read the story here.














Bao Xishun, the world's tallest man, pictured above

Holly

Bert says that if Bonnie doesn't kill Holly they'll end up the bestest of chums. She is every bit as feisty as I'd hoped. It's fun to watch a tiny little kitten take on a German Shepherd. They still need supervision though, at least until Holly is a bit bigger and stronger. That's all for now folks. I have so much work to do right now.

Rooney's Luck

Young Loveheart is always saying that Young Rooney should get out more. The fellow hadn’t been out the door since the night he was mysteriously transported from the Countryman’s Inn, Grove Road, Ballymena to Logan’s Fashion’s near Cloughmills. We thought at the time it might have been an alien abduction. Who knows? What we do know is that Young Rooney lost a couple of hours that night.

And so it came about that Young Loveheart and the rest of the fellows talked Young Rooney into another night out in the Countryman’s. For a while all went well. Then it was time to move on to the next venue. The taxi was but half a mile down the road when Young Loveheart exclaimed, “Where’s Rooney?” Disaster! Rooney had been mislaid. “We can’t leave Rooney in the Countryman’s on his own,” Loveheart protested, “He’ll be killed! Let me out!”

Young Loveheart ran back to the pub and found Young Rooney pleasantly preoccupied in chatting up ‘a bird’ at the bar. In no time at all Young Loveheart was himself chatting up no less than six ‘birds’ and for a while all was well.

But Rooney’s luck did not hold. While Loveheart was otherwise engaged the brother of Rooney’s ‘bird’ took exception to a remark allegedly made by Rooney and commenced to ‘beat him up.’ It’s said (by Young Loveheart) that Rooney then took to his baters and outran his assailant. By the time Loveheart realised what had occurred Rooney was two miles down the road but not quite the length of Logan’s Fashions. Young Loveheart, naturally, had no difficulty in catching up with Rooney him being the tight lad he is.

The rest of the story is shrouded in mystery as the person to whom it was told (Bert) has but a short attention span and does not recall being told how the evening ended. But wouldn’t we all be fortunate to have a friend as mindful (and as fit) as Young Loveheart?

Introducing...

holly 2, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

...Holly de Cat.

Dutch Talk Show Interview (with English Subtitles)

Happy Birthday To My Faraway Girl

Katy & Mary, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Katy's birthday today.

Hope you're having a good one darling.

Watch Out! There's A Cat-Shaped Space In My Heart That's About To Be Filled

That's it then. Two more of my teeth have been consigned to the rubbish heap. After the extraction (dentist had to kneel on my chest and brace himself to get the blighters out) I went for a brisk walk by the river. And in the dark too - I'm a real hardy hoor. Now I'm suited, booted and teethed to the max for a night out with the Tinkerton crew. If I get round to posting again tonight it will be seriously gin-affected. So I probably won't. Oh yes - tomorrow we're getting a kitten.

In Hiding

Do I have all my own teeth? Unfortunately, tragically not. Tonight some of my teeth are still in my mouth but the remainder of them are with the dental technician. Tomorrow I am to lose my rickety bridge and gain four extra teeth on my plate.

I have to keep telling myself that it’s only teeth. Only teeth. And that I still have all my limbs and digits. My facial features are in place and all my other bits and boobs are where they should be. And when the technician (false teeth maker) has done his bit my smile will be intact again.

But I’m really very, very sad about it. Then of course there is having to hide in the house all day. After he nabbed my removable teeth that crazy dentist actually asked me if I’d be going Christmas shopping later.

Crithmath thopping! Are you inthane? With thith witch-hag maw?

I took Paddy for a walk and while I was out I worried about what I’d do if anyone spoke to me. I decided that I’d feign deaf-muteness. Maybe they’d think I was learning disabled? There are plenty of learning disabled people with that are perfectly capable of walking dogs.

I’m using my time hiding away from the world to start preparing my teaching practice lesson for the week before Christmas. Who knew there were so many things you can do with tables? Earlier this evening Bert was out collecting Jamie from the airport and to be on the safe side I’d locked all the doors and turned out most of the lights. Usually I hear cars coming up the lane but being so engrossed in the Tables and Borders toolbar I must have missed this one. First thing I knew was the back door being banged off its hinges. I leapt out of my chair and raced into the darkened kitchen where I crouched beside the fridge. It was ages before that brute Paddy stopped barking and I felt I could return to my studies.

This hellish toothlessness continues until 3.30 tomorrow. Then I’ll be able to say,

All my own teeth? But of course. All bought and paid for.

Dirrrty!

Oh I've been so busy the last few days wrestling and struggling with Mail Merge. For after all, how can I teach it if I don't understand it myself? But I got there in the end - at least I think I did.

Night class tonight and the discussion turned to methods of teaching and the long term effects a harsh teacher can have on a pupil's self-esteem. For that reason I'll never forget Miss Dwyer. Old school she was, taught mathematics, wore a dusty old gown, green with age and, as far as I can remember, appeared to hate humanity and girls in particular.

Nor will I ever forget that dreadful cold afternoon in first year grammar as I sat shivering in the Assembly Hall while Miss Dwyer droned on about some mathematical concept. My nose itched. There was a ripe old booger up there. I did what I had to do. Suddenly her voice rang out!

Nelly Moser! You dirrrty, dirrty girl. Get your finger out of your nose! Now go and wash your hands you dirrrty, dirrrty girl!

I think it took me the best part of twenty years to get over the humiliation. And the mortal blow to my self-esteem all but eroded my interest in maths. Funnily enough though the shame didn't stop me picking my nose. It just taught me to be more discreet.

Wot?

A prize of a 20 foot Christmas tree (winner must collect) to the first person who identifies this picture.

Talking to the Cops

While Bert was wending his way back from his night's camping out in Murlough Bay I was out taking Bonnie and Paddy for a walk. Coincidentally we both got stopped by the traffic police. Mine was off-duty and taking his German Shepherd for a walk and we had a bit of a chat about Bonnie and how she's getting on.

Bert's encounter was with the on-duty variety and just outside Armoy. Firstly he accused Bert of driving through the village faster than the required 30mph. Knowing Bert, this was unlikely. He was more likely to have been driving under the speed limit as over it. However it was no matter as the officer had no means of judging his speed and Bert was, as is advisable, most affable and polite to the officer.

And where are you coming from sir?

Murlough Bay.

Murlough Bay?

Yes. I was camping there last night.

Camping? Do you expect me to believe that?

Yes. I was camping with a couple of friends.

And who are these friends? And where are they now?

It's Marty M..... and Brian I don't know his second name. They're sitting in Ballycastle now at a big fry and if you wait there they'll be along eventually.

Please step outside the van sir....

Stormy Weather

I took Matty to Ballymena this afternoon as she wanted to buy some reading glasses. She got her second cataract operation earlier in the week and found that her old reading glasses didn't do the job any more. Of course the first thing she wants to do in Sainsburys is buy a scratch card (she's addicted)but, ever the caring daughter, I pulled her out of the queue on the grounds that it was too long and she would tire herself out. I told her I'd stop at another scratch card vending emporioum on the way home.

So we got our bits and pieces and split up at the checkouts. I'd more stuff than Matty so took a bit longer. When I was through I looked about but couldn't see her anywhere. Then I bumped into George, my old colleague from Tinkerton. We chatted for a few moments and I mentioned I was looking for my mother. He said, "Oh mine follows me around," and I looked behind him to see an elderly gentleman smiling benignly whilst leaning on a trolley. "You're lucky," I said, "Mine wanders off."

I found her eventually. She was furtively scraping at a scratch card. The minute my back was turned...

<><><><><><>

I'm home alone tonight as Bert has gone camping with his West Belfast friends.

Camping? In this weather? They were planning to go to Murlough Bay but they must have forgotten to listen to the weather forecast. It's very wet and VERY windy.

Methinks they'll be camping in the Marine Hotel, Ballycastle.