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 |  Empty or full, shiny or a little in need of washing and sometimes just cracked! |
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I heard about these blogs and wondered why people would want to air their dirty laundry online. But I feel safe on this site so maybe it's worth a try. We'll see. This blog is complete. Please find my new blog from the link below...
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Get up  do laundry and wash pots catch up a bit on WDC pack things up for dad go to hospital shop for mum go to mum's do jobs for mum and lock up cook dinner catch up a bit on WDC crack open a bottle and empty it go to bed. THAT IS   I tell a lie, today I've had the added joy of a Mammogram - squash, yelp - and tomorrow I have to go for a medical and interview to assess if at 56 I'm fit to resume work. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha. Oh yes, I can fit a forty-hour a week job in between all this, while the young unemployed who've never worked a day in their lives and the unmarried mothers sit on their backsides claiming benefits. In the meantime I'll just keep on singing - They're coming to take me away ha ha, they're coming to take me away...to the funny farm, where life is beautiful all the time and I'll be happy to see those nice young men in their clean white coats...they're coming to take me away. Excuse me, I have my cynical head on - I'll try to find a better one in the bottom of the wardrobe tomorrow. |
| I had a wonderful burpday and everything went off without a hitch. My friends arrived early in the morning with cards, gifts and many bottles. Our lovely limo driver took us to the marina where we boarded our boat for a three hour cruise, including a great meal. On return, the limo brought us back to my house for a buffet and a relaxing evening outside. After everyone had left and hubby had fallen into bed, I spent a happy hour alone listening to my new C.D's, washing up and tidying the house. At 11.45pm, with no wish to miss one minute of my burpday I signed into WDC (Yes, I could still focus.)and spent the last part of the day laughing at the antics that had taken place in my blog and smiling and sniffling at all the wonderful things in my mailbox. The end of a perfect day. So HUGE THANKS to all of you for your good wishes and greetings. To partyof5dj, silversara, Nada   , pencilsoverpens , twinkledee ♥'s you , emmyloo, and pensive for the wonderful merit badges. To sultry, silversara, schipperke, SSTheWriter and Lexi  for the c-notes and greeting cards.To chalaedra for the beautiful new sig, to gypsy4evermore for the beer  and last but by no means least to ccstring for the singing and the wonderful graphic he placed in my blog. I WUB you all. Today has been just hospital and jigsaws but I've managed to download some photos of my special day if you wish to take a peek. Just click on the one of 'da queen,' in order to see the rest. The reason I plan these special days is because no matter what life throws at me the rest of the time, nothing and no one can take away these lovely memories. And you folk helped make my day EXTRA special too.  P.S. Here Tor...a nice juicy bone for ya...good boy...   |
| Yesterday we played 'hunt the daddy' at the hospital; a game I'm becoming quite familiar with. After being on three different wards, we finally discovered him tucked up on a medical ward awaiting assessment. It seems it's the same old problem with his blood pressure lowering when he stands up, rather than rising as is normal. This causes the dizziness, which in turn leads to falls. Very worrying but not sure what can be done about it. Anyway, his belongings had been packed into a large plastic bag and deposited on the chair by his bed. As a dutiful daughter and tidy person, it seemed only right for me to unpack them and arrange them in his locker. Now, my dad's a bit of a hoarder, so it was no surprise to find crumpled tissues, receipts, loose change, bottles of pills and a urine sample (don't ask) amongst his possessions. I put all the small items in the drawer then started to fold and arrange his clothes in the cupboard. It was then I received quite a shock. There, in the bottom of the bag was a PANK, yes PANK dress. Not a cocktail one admittedly, but the sort my grandma used to call a 'washing frock.' Now either my dad is a secret cross-dresser, has lost his marbles and started wearing PANK dresses in his old age or has been thieving from old lady's lockers.  Obviously, it had been put with his belongings by mistake, but it caused quite a laugh amongst the nurses when I returned it and told them it just wasn't his colour. They're being very good to him, bless them. So, no new developments as yet, but I thank you all for your kind, understanding and uplifting comments. I have much to do today in preparation for my burpday outing tomorrow. I'm taking my 'gals' out in a limo, then on a river cruise, Obviously, I'll be worried about both my parents, but will have to do my best today to make sure they have everything they need until Sunday. I really didn't anticipate this when I organised my burpday months ago; a reminder to take nothing for granted. So, off to paint the nails, wash the hair, fill the goody bags, get the party table sorted and visit the hospital and mother. Not forgetting cleaning the bog of corset. I was born on a Saturday too - you know what they say about Saturday's child. Will be back Sunday, hangover and parents permitting. Have a great weekend yourselves. |
| I often wish there was a website to purchase the ability to cope with life or it was a skill that could be taught in school. Yesterday, my dad finally had his second cataract operation and I was foolish enough to breathe a sigh of relief that at least one thing was out the way. This morning my mother phoned to say he'd had another dizzy spell, fallen and cracked his head open. So, instead of a day shopping for the last minute things I need for my burpday, it's been another day of ambulances, phone calls, waiting and anxiety. The skies are grey, heavy rain has pelted down for much of the day, doing nothing to help the mood. Five weeks on Saturday my son sets off travelling the world. I only have to think about it and I just well up. The thought of possibly not seeing him for two years is one I'm finding hard to cope with. I have an on-going dispute with hubby which I know will only be resolved if I accept his decision and not stick to my own and all in all I'm feeling rather sorry for myself. There might be a light at the end of the tunnel, but today someone turned it off. I wish I was a coper, I wish I was strong-natured, I wish I was more hard-hearted because some days life just seems too much to cope with. Why are we humans given so much feeling if it means hurting so much? Apologies, sense of humour crisis. Off to the hospital now with a very strong deja vue feeling. |
| August has arrived in the form of steely skies, strong winds and showers and suddenly England seems like England again. I hope it improves, as my birthday bash would be so much better in clement weather and my sister is going away to the coast tomorrow. Talking of the coast I've decided I need a tour of the coastline of Britain after reading a short item in a newspaper today. There I was, queuing up at the Lottery counter in the supermarket earlier, giving my ticket another damned good talking to and informing it how much good I'd do in the world if it would only oblige me by winning. Suddenly, I noticed a photo of a group of yellow tub floaters on the front of a paper on the nearby newspaper stand. Now much as I'm not a big newspaper reader, I couldn't resist checking out why these little ducky dudes had hit the front page. Apparently, and I tell you no lie, there are 10 thousand of the little rubber dudes heading for the coast of England after having been floating around in the sea for 14 years. The result of a cargo of bath toys falling from a freight ship and becoming lost at sea. I now have the urge to forget those foreign holidays and go duck combing on our glorious beaches. I may even stage my own death to escape domestic bondage and pursue my new ambition. Anyway, more photographs, but this time of our weekend in London. I've always believed it's a place you either love or hate, but with hand on heart I can honestly say, I WUB London and never tire of it.        |
| You know, anyone can change their name by deed poll, so why isn't there an option to change your birthday too? Much as I like being a Leo and celebrating burpdays in summer, I often wish I'd been born at a different time of year. Having a burpday in August as a child meant NEVER being amongst friends at school to share the celebrations. Being a teacher in later years meant NEVER being amongst work colleagues when the big day came around. Now, there are so many other things going on at this time of year, it's a problem getting everything ready for my special day out at the weekend. May or September would be much easier months to get things organised. Maybe I should be like da other Queen and have two burpdays a year. That would make me 112 on Saturday. The weekend in London was enjoyable, if a little heavy on travelling and crimpelene kids aka as pensioners. I can never imagine retiring to my hotel room at 9.00pm with a cup of tea and a fig roll. Loads to do but have put some Crete photos in the WDC album. I'll post the first and leave you to peruse the rest if you wish. I'm not very good at creating albums yet so you need to click 'previous' as opposed to 'next' to access the Crete photos, or you'll end up back in Sardinia. lol Confused? Me too. Gotta run now ...millions of blogs to catch up on.  |
| Before the dawn of Blogville, in the far off days when WDC was just a quiet place to store writing, I really could have done with a place like this to vent and swear in private. As it was it was often the bathroom, the garden gnomes or the U-bend that suffered my abuse. You see, back in 2001 hubby had a hip replacement. To cut a long story short, it went wrong...twice. This involved removal of the hip joint, three hipless months, replacement of the hip joint, rejection, removal of the hip joint, six hipless months and finally a successful hip replacement. Now before you start sympathising with the hipless one, spare a thought for poor wickle Scarlett. Not only was I totally responsible for every household task, shopping and waiting on his lordship, I had to contend with the sound of crutches for eighteen solid months. Actually, there were several pairs - Colin and Crispin, Carl and Claud, Cuthbert and Clifford to name but a few. But I digress...oh look a chicken. To this day I can recognise the click tap, click tap of metal crutches from miles away and break out into a cold sweat at the sound of them. Well, today they are BACK. Hubby had his minor knee op this morning and was back in his throne by 11.30am. I had to go shopping and visit my parents but when I arrived home the first thing to greet me in the hall were a pair of shiny brand new metal crutches. I'm still trembling from the shock and may need alcoholic sustenance later to steady my nerves.I only pray there will be no complications following this operation and said crutches, as yet nameless, will only be staying a short while. Otherwise there could be a blubbering, stark raving lunatic taking over this blog. What do you mean you wouldn't notice the difference? So tomorrow at some unearthly time, I'm escaping to London with my friend Joy until Sunday. Don't go worrying about old Hopalong; he'll be fine and son will help out if needed. I swear he arranged this operation to make me feel guilty for leaving him.  I may be tempted to stage my own death to escape the crutches and domestic bondage. If there is no blog from me by Tuesday, you'll know I'm setting up a new identity somewhere in the hustle and bustle of our capital city. But I suspect it will be business as usual come Monday; he'd find me even if I set up home on Venus, despite Mars being his birthplace. Still not downloaded those Crete photos but I'm sure you can wait a few more days. Have to go now...son is taking us out for a meal. I hear hubby getting ready...click tap, click tap. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. |
| Okay, Okay, I got off that plane over twenty-four hours ago and have only these excuses to offer for not spending enough time in Blogville since then - 1. The majority of my time has been taken up by scratching. I don't know what the little Greek b******s are that invisibly sink their teeth or whatever into visitors but boy, they certainly know how to make a person itch. It's costing a fortune and taking ages to apply sprays and lotions but I still resemble a scarlet dalmation. On the up side, I hear spots are in fashion this summer. 2. The rest of the time has been spent doing mounds of laundry, trying to find my home under the manpiles, visiting parents and attempting to revive the garden pots and baskets. I am seriously thinking of staging my own death to escape this life of domestic bondage. 3. The weather is so stiflingly hot, it's impossible to sleep, move, type, or even breathe without perspiring buckets. England is not used to long spells of intense heat so we don't have air conditioning or shady spots designed for relief. We are also famous for grumbling about the weather, but you won't hear me complaining of course. 4. My computer connection has constipation again. I keep getting cut off and it's taking ages to load each page. On the up side, waiting for the 'Cannot find Server' message leaves me plenty of time for scratching those itches. Solutions seem impossible to find and our server is blaming ...the weather... what else? How come the connection in the internet cafe in Crete was like lightening? I guess we have a different sort of heat in England. 5. Real life. When the option arrives to resign from the real world and be sucked through the computer screen into Cyberspace, I'll be the first to volunteer. Tomorrow hubby is having a minor knee operation to remove floating debris. (shame they can't do the same in the brain area) Monday, I have to take mother to the docs for some test results. This may require putting her on a leash and dragging her there and Tuesday my dad is finally having that second cataract operation, we hope. In between that I have the overnight theatre weekend in London with my friend. So, apologies for not catching up with everyone or downloading the photos of Crete. I will get round to it eventually but today I really don't have time to even blog. |
| Could someone please send - 1. Earplugs. The Cicada's rubbing their legs together or whatever it is they do at the crack of dawn make enough noise to wake the whole of the Greek Islands. 2. A shotgun. Even earplugs wouldn't eradicate the sound of the crow which insists on cawing raucously outside the window as light dawns. 3. A large fan. The air conditioning is about as effective as a five-year-old trying to blow out birthday candles. 4. Hiking boots and crampons. To say our hotel is on a 'slight slope,' as described in the brochure must be the holiday understatement of the year. 5. A brain. I think hubby and I left both of ours at home along with a few other vital items. Otherwise fine. Weather glorious, beaches beautiful, islanders charming, trips tomorrow and Monday and Euro's running out. Be good, back soon. WUB you all. |
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