On Retreat

Dear Ed is in Laos for the weekend. Some kind of Buddhist retreat I understand. His good friend Chez has suggested that the IDQCT Fan Club should take over his comments and 'trash' the place. I think that 'trash' in Jersey means 'enhance' or 'respect'. I'll be over there in the morning respecting and enhancing to the best of my ability. Just right now I'm too tired to do it justice.

But while we're on the subject does anyone else think that the aforementioned Chez would make a good President of the Fan Club? It's obvious from his comments on Ed's blog that they go back a long way and that he holds his Edness in the highest esteem.

I wonder where in Laos He has pitched His tent.

How It Went

I spent £512.11.

By far the largest amount was spent on running the car for I spent £176 on car tax and nearly £75 on petrol. The second largest amount was used to buy groceries. I spent just over £130 on food and detergents.

The initial fees for my course were £99.

I could have saved £30.81 on other items but that would have meant no birthday card for Zoë, no ice cream and coffee for Hannah and myself the night she was really miz and I was trying to cheer her up and no buns for the workmates and no chocolate (only 4 bars this month and I only scoffed 2 of them) and no newspapers.

But this was only what I spent. I’d like to thank Matty for buying the coffees and eats the times we went out, Bert for breakfasts in the Bluebell and the Nobel and also for the wine. Bert also made his usual contributions to the grocery shopping.


The chart does not include my standing orders and direct debits, which pay for things like my contribution to household bills, the Internet and various insurance and pension contributions. So I did spend quite a bit more than £512.

I drastically reduced my expenditure on confectionary and alcohol. I even reduced (a little) my consumption of same. I bought many fewer newspapers and no magazines. I never darkened the door of a charity shop or TK Maxx. It was a bloody bore.

But I could do it all again and now that I’ll be working for something closer to the minimum wage I may have to.

Happy Birthday To

Moving On

Today I signed up for a course which will give me a teaching qualification.

I then made an application to do agency work.

And I handed in my resignation. I'm leaving Tinkerton.

Making Changes

Bert and I went to the Nobel Cafe today instead of the Bluebell. Bert thought that the prices of the five piece fry did not compare favourably with the Bluebell Cafe. I pointed out that the quality and the portion sizes were superior.

In the Bluebell your woman pokes through the fadge 'til she finds the smallest piece then puts it on my plate! That's every single time.

Maybe she's trying to tell you something.

A change of venue for brunch is not the only change in the air. Bert made steps today in the direction of changing his bank from The Bunch Of Robbing Bastards Bank to The We'll Still Rob You But Not Quite As Drastically As Them Other Boys Bank. Small steps.

And I've been letting this lovely phrase roll off my tongue -

My soon to be ex-boss

More to report tomorrow when contracts are signed and ink dries.

Poets & Dreamers

What a very pleasant and civilised evening we had yesterday.

Gravy Dave read some of his poetry. And it was good - more than good. We drank wine and talked of many, many things.

Nelly: Why do they call you Gravy Dave?

Gravy Dave: Say again?

Nelly: Your name. Gravy Dave. Why do they call you that?

Gravy Dave: Dunno really.

Jamie: It's because there are so many Daves in Stoke. We have to tell them apart somehow. I once went to a festival with seventeen guys all called Dave!

We spoke of dreams. I told them this.

Nelly: I dreamed I walked out of work and got on a bus for Cushendall. Just as we got there I started to panic. I should be in work! I decided to tell them I'd had a nervous breakdown. What does that mean?

Them: It means you hate your job and you want to leave.

Nelly: Then I dreamed I was at work and I had to make an urgent phone call. I couldn't get the phone to work. I started to panic. What does that mean?

Them: It means you hate your job and you want to leave.

Nelly: Then I dreamed I was in work and I looked down at my leg an there was a big patch where I'd obviously missed shaving. There were long black silky ringletted hairs growing from it. They were about four inches long. I started to panic because I was wearing a skirt and I couldn't hide them. What do you think that means?

Them: It means you hate your job and you want to leave.

Sunday

Looky Likey

Thanking very much CyberScribe for the link to this Face Recognition fun site.

I was straight in there wth my own picture and found out that I was a dead ringer for this one.

Tung Chee Hwa

Cannot say I was offended for he is a bit of a looker.

Then I thought I'd try Ganching to see if any family likeness came up.

Sylevester Stallone

Can't see the family resemblance myself.

Then I adjusted the thing for gender and came up with these pair - Nelly and Ganching respectively.

Joan Cusack =Nelly looky likey [Love those mad staring eyes. So me]

Sarit Hadad = Ganching looky likey

You can definitely see the family resemblance there can't you?.

So then I moved on to the weans.

Zoe - Fred Durst

Katy - Eliza Dushku

Hannah - Billie Piper

Have to say I was appalled at Zoe's doppelganger. Fred Durst is not any mother's ideal choice 'cepting of course Fred Durst's actual mother. So I submitted another photo of Zobo sans Red Hat and came up with Eliza Dushku. Result!

Incidentally I have never hear't tell of Eliza Dushku but she is gorgeous and there are lots of photos of her on t'internet. So she must be all right.

Nelly Gets Nasty

Yesterday morning I threw a strop and it started like this.

Do you know we’ll soon be living in this house for a year?

Really?

Yes. A year. In October. And the bloody place is still not finished. Look at the state of that floor. When is that useless bastard Nameless coming back to finish it? Two months we’ve been ringing him. He’s nothing but a [insert very bad word]. If you had laid a floor and that happened would you not at least have come round to check it out?

Aye. I suppose I would.

Well typical useless get can’t even be bothered to do that. You can just knock a hundred quid, at least, off his bill for all our bother and expense.

He still hasn’t billed us for any of the work he’s done so far.

Huh. Typical lazy, useless get can’t even do that!

And so it went on and on taking in, along the way, the tramping in of muck, dogs drooling on the cushions, a pan not washed since Tuesday evening and a petulant refusal to finish cooking the pancakes I’d started on.

Naturally enough Bert lost his head at it all, told me he was fed up listening to my ranting and complaining, advised me to shut the [insert moderately bad word] up and made a damn good try at storming off in his van.

But I got to him before he got off the yard. Begged him to reconsider his actions and contritely promised to finish cooking the pancakes.

And the outcome was that Bert finished the floor himself. It took him all day. All that was required of me was to help him to puzzle out which boards went back where, make lots of tea, admire his skill and intelligence, and cook him a lovely meal with dessert to follow.

Which is why I’d no time to post any blog entries yesterday.

Fungi Has A Lot To Answer For

Sometimes I like to idle away a few hours minutes surfing and so on. Tonight I've been googling a small village on the Dingle peninsula. I first visited Ballydolphinig* in the 1980s. One of my sisters was going about with a lad from those parts. In fact she ended up marrying him and they're around there to this day. But anyway I wander off.

Ballydolphinig was a very small place then and I understand it still is. It nestled at the foot of a shale mountain and consisted of a collection of houses. They called it a village but there was no pub, no post-office and no shops. The people of the village had roots reaching back for centuries and they all spoke Irish. Except for the children who spoke and were spoken to in English.

Sure they'll get enough Irish to do them.

It was a quiet place then. The main excitement for the youngsters of an evening was setting the fuchsia hedges on fire. Or hitching a lift on a donkey and cart to the next crossroads for a bit of oul craic.

Of course it's all changed now. Ballydolphinig is all modern with satellite TV and the best of cars and household goods and everything a body could ask for. They've all got computers and the internet but not, as far as I know, broadband.

Even so, can you imagine my shock on googling through parish registers, pictures of beehive cells and advertisements for holiday cottages, to find a web page called Ballydolphinig Swingers. With pictures of the lively couples too. All ages, all creeds and all colours. Thirty-nine pairs of them! And some without tan-lines.

They must be blow-ins.



*name has been changed to protect the innocent

Changes

You've Changed 40% in 10 Years

Ah, the past! You may not remember it well - because you're still living in it. While you've changed some, you may want to update your wardrobe, music collection and circle of friends.

How Much Have You Changed in 10 Years?

Found at Baboon Pirates

Huh! I think 40% a lot of changing for a woman in her middle years.

My Thinspiration

Mrs Bun the Baker in her Kitchen

Despite all the walking I've been doing I'm still all fat & jolly and to tell you the honest truth there are times I'm not a bit jolly about it at all. Of course I do eat like a savage and all this home baking I'm doing is taking a toll. Incidentally Bert remains his usual skinny self. So snot fair.

That's me up there feigning jollity and rattling the pots & pans to get another big feed of cakes and buns on the go.

I'm delighted to hear that Carisenda has been successful in reducing his BMI. I wonder if that method would work for me? Or should I get one of those scary looking snakes that Nicole Richie has? Poor girl cannot call a slice of pizza her own. No wonder she's so emaciated. I'd know when to stop though. When I got down to a svelte eleven stone I'd get Bert to chop the snake up for firewood or, better still, give it to Dave for whittling with.

Is it just me or are those sunglasses really, really stupid looking?

Baby Blogger of the Year

Your Esteemed Candidate

Vote vote vote for Sandra.

Best young blogger I know.

VOTE EARLY AND VOTE OFTEN!

Helping the Police

The Scene: An Office In A Town

The Characters:

Woman, Somewhat Glum
Young Woman, Somewhat Giggly
Female Police Officer
Male Police Officer

MPO: So your man has the Advanced Driver’s Licence but he got it over 20 years ago and now he’s half blind. You’d need to be sitting beside him telling him where to drive, what to watch out for, walls and things, for he sees nothing.

WSG: Do the police not get youse ones to refresh that sort of thing after a period of time?

FPO: Huh! Hardly. Sure we’re waiting forever to get refresher courses in firearms training.

WSG: I’d like firearms training.

All parties look at Woman, Somewhat Glum askance. She continues…

WSG: For I might be the sort of person you’ll find someday at a high window picking people off…

YWSG: giggles

FPO: I could give you a list.

MPO: (points out window) Take out a few in that row there and you’ll cut the town’s crime rate in half.

A Song For Nelly

grrr, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

All together now

WoooWoooWoooo
WhowwwwWhowwwwWhowwww
Repeat

Translation

We hate Nelly, she's a hateful cow
We hate Nelly, she's a fat oul sow
We hate Nelly and her rotten blog
We hate Nelly and we're singing this in Dog

And Moving Swiftly On...

Here are some more pictures about which, I'm certain, there shall be no complaints.

Rosie Sleeping

Rosie says: Ah for pity's sake is that the best photo you could find. I look like a right scruffy oul fecker in that and my nose looks stupid and my arse looks fat and that's not my best foreleg I'm showing..

Paddy Racing on the Loan Hill

Paddy says: Aye! And I look like I'm racing to catch the Special Bus. For God's sake Nelly! Mad staring eyes, tongue lolling and my ears... the cut of my ears! Take it down Nelly. My fans will hate it.

Scruff Licking The Cream Bowl

Scruff: Damn you to hell and back Nelly. That's a cut. My hairs standing on end and my head stuck in a bowl of cream. I look so bloody old! And greedy! That's not going to help my thinspiration cred is it now? Not one bit!

Stray Toaster and Dimples

Stray Toaster and Dimples, originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

For Sandra and the rest of the girls.

Of course it doesn't do them justice. They're both even better in the flesh.

Note to self. Calm down. You know using words like 'flesh' will only bring on one of your hot flushes.

Trust

I recently spoke to An Eighty-Year-Old Woman With Whom I Am Very Well Acquainted and I asked her what her thoughts were on the recent Critical Security Alert. She answered me thus.

A lot of made up nonsense! There’s that oul get Blair away on his holidays and the next thing this carry-on starts! They had it all planned out. I was listening to that oul Reid and that other doll on the television and y’know they were that well rehearsed. They’d that all planned. Your Daddy used to say that they always started some sort of a carry-on all over the TV and the papers when they were up to something they didn’t want anybody to know about. And d’ye not think that oul Blair looks evil like the divil? Or maybe it’s some sort of an act he’s putting on?

An Accidental Delinking

Somebody went missing from my links sidebar.

I only noticed this morning.

My first thought (being paranoid) was that he'd hacked into my computer and removed it himself for he's clever like that.

My second thought was that I'd probably done it myself while messing under the bonnet of this blog.

Anyway he's back now.

A Memory

Around five or six years ago we had a car boot sale in the grounds of my workplace in Spide City. Our aim was to raise some money so that we could take the clients and their children on an outing or two. At that time our manager was Ursa Major and she put a lot of effort into fundraising. That was the kind of manager she was, hands on and a good team leader.

As always the bric-a-brac was a big draw. I’d had a good clear out myself and one of the things I’d donated to the sale was a box of Action Man dolls, outfits, accessories and vehicles. These had belonged to the son of a good friend of mine who, at 14 or 15, had long since outgrown them. They had been lying about our house for ages and I was glad to get rid of them. It turned out that Ursa Major’s son had also put his Action Man toys into the sale. He was there with his mum and I remember watching him looking through the other boy’s collection. He was a big handsome blond boy of twelve or thirteen and I thought he looked wistful as if he wished he wasn’t too old to play with Action Men.

It would be far too hard to bear if we could see into the future. My good friend’s son has since broken her heart. And Ursa Major’s son died early this morning. He was eighteen.