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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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| Ever since we returned from Sardinia we've had problems with our computers. I get disconnected every few minutes on MSN, pages on WDC are taking ages to load and I'm saying 'This page cannot be displayed' repeatedly in my sleep. I was led to believe it was due to the internet being over-subscribed with football fans placing bets and surfing the World Cup sites. But today it's been worse than ever and I can't think there are that many fans still glued to World Cup reports with only two more matches to go. No, something is amiss but getting through to our server by phone is almost as likely as England ever winning a penalty shoot-out. Waiting in a queue of over eighty may just take up what time I have left on earth and the only recorded problem is associated with weather conditions. What weather conditions? It's dry and warm and windless. My friends up the road on the same server aren't experiencing problems, so is their weather different or something? Very frustrating when our computers are modern, with plenty of disk space free and so-called speedy Broadband connections. Very frustrating too when I'm trying to keep up with blogs and mail. I have no idea what to do next; getting to speak to a 'real' person is seemingly impossible. When I finally get into my hotmail account I discover the six unread mails are all forwarded jokes and such. These tend to irritate me, especially if they require downloading or I discover I've seen them before. But I did receive one today which amused me, so over the next few days I'll post it in parts. If anyone has seen it before I hope you'll keep quiet about the answers. Spoil the fun and risk Scarlett's wrath.  The test consists of four (NOT FIVE?  ) questions for smart people. I know you're all exceedingly smart so I'll look forward to reading your answers. First Question - How do you put a giraffe in the refrigerator? Answer and second question tomorrow. I know you can't wait.  |
| To all my friends across the pond, I hope you're enjoying your July 4th celebrations and having a more productive day than I've had. Some days are just a waste of make up. It would have been pointless wearing any today anyway, as the sweltering heat would soon have melted it. I went to my friend Gillian's this morning for a reflexology session, then sauntered home. Mother decided she didn't want to go out this afternoon so I decided I'd 'nip' into town and do a few overdue jobs. There was another load of those socks and pants to hang out to dry, but I'd do that on return. I packed a bag with another friend's birthday presents and a parcel for overseas. Quite heavy in this heat, but they'd soon be off my hands I thought. Called in at my friends to deliver the presents but no one at home. So no choice but to carry them into town and deliver them on the way back. Arrived at the Post Office to be informed there'd been a break in at the weekend and it was closed for today. Cursing, I carried my parcels across the precinct to the library to collect a book a friend had recommended. Turns out the library is going to be closed for refurbishment for the whole of the summer holidays (great timing for the kids off school) and they were having a book sale today to get rid of old stock. The librarian pointed me towards two books in the sale by the author of the book I was taking out - well, at ten pence each who could resist? So added three bulky books to my already bulging bags and set off for the chemists. I just wanted to get one of those little pill boxes marked with the days of the week in an effort to get mother to remember to take her tablets, but the pharmacist informed me her next month's medication was ready too so did I want to take it? Added mother's many pills, eye drops, inhalers and lotions to my ever expanding bags and set off for home. Called in my friends again to deliver presents, but still no one home. I now have bags of goods in my hallway still awaiting delivery, as well as shorter legs from all the walking and longer arms fom carrying heavy bags. All I need now is a tree and a hairy chest and I can take up chimpanzee impressions. Pegged out the washing eventually, taking solace in the fact I haven't got the same obsession about pegs as my mother and sister, otherwise I could have been there all afternoon. A few years ago I discovered they both HAVE to use matching coloured pegs on each item they hang on the line. This is totally out of character. Both of them have bags and pockets crammed full of last years' bus tickets, receipts, tissues and shopping lists and are constantly searching for misplaced items. I'm the neat freak but I couldn't give a monkeys about what colour pegs are attached to my washing. 'There's nowt so queer as folks,' as my granddad used to say. Do any of your family members have any quirky little obsessions or habits? |
| It's been a scorcher today. Now you know I'm not normally one to complain but there are some things I'd forgotten about really hot weather that can be very irritating. Burglar alarms. At this time of year people go away on holiday and you can guarantee their burglar alarms will go off at least five times a day. I don't know why they bother setting them as no one ever investigates. We just assume it's the wind or a spider in the works and go about our business, cursing the constant wailing sounds. Insects. Why is it when they have sunshine, fresh air and the whole world to fly/crawl/buzz in they prefer to queue up to get inside my house? Any open door or window seems to be an invitation for flies, spiders, wasps, beetles, woodlice, moths and other creepy crawlies to come inside. Sometimes my 'live and let live' attitude is difficult to keep up, as I seem to spend a hell of a lot of time attempting to catch the little blighters and return them to the outside world. Children. Reminders that the long summer break is on the horizon are difficult to ignore when the sun shines. Squeals and rich vocabulary from every back yard, little faces peering over the fences and hedges as they bounce on their garden trampolines and quick dives into the bushes as teenagers on unlicenced motorcycles tear through the park are regular occurences. Bless their little cotton socks. Men. Out comes the sun, off comes the men's clothing and we're treated to sights that should only be allowed after the watershed. Why is it always the ones with bald heads, beer bellies, skinny white knees and man boobs who think the world and his wife will appreciate being exposed to their excess flab? Extra work. Dry weather means hanging out every washload which takes up precious time. Why is it the aforementioned half-naked men still insist on wearing socks? Pegging out twenty pairs can be very time-consuming. Then there's the plant pots and baskets. Three hot days and you can guarantee the government will start muttering about hosepipe bans. With no rain it takes ages to carry a tiny watering can around the garden. You will remind me about all this when the winter returns and I'm grumping about the cold weather won't you? Not that I'm one to complain of course. Oh, and for those who are waiting with baited breath, it is my pleasant duty to inform you mother is now unblocked. |
| I was anticipating a lie in after yesterday's early start. But at the crack of nine this morning our telephone blasted us from sleep. It was my mother, informing us she thought she had a 'stoppage' and may need to go to hospital. Now one thing you need or may not need to know about my mother is she has a thing about bodily functions. No one else is allowed to have any and her own must behave at all costs. Irregular toilet habits will not be tolerated, so panic tends to set in if there's the slightest hint of delay. You may think she has a rather cruel daughter who posts this sort of information on the internet, but it's not as if you're likely to bump into her in the street and even if you did I know you're all tactful enough not to ask about her bowel movements. Of course, it had to be a Sunday when her system decides to misbehave and all shops and pharmacists are closed. So, we spent the morning yelling down the phone to hubby's 91 year-old mother who's a little hard of hearing, enquiring if she had any suitable medication to pass on to the other mother in distress. Elderly ladies tend to keep in a stock of suitable cures for all ills when they live alone. We then fetched the appropriate laxatives and fibre gels and delivered them to my parent's house. It was a very subdued jigsaw session this afternoon and no sign yet of any activity from mother's sluggish intestines. How we'll cope if they haven't obliged by tomorrow I don't know, but I'm sure you've heard enough of this crap. Ooops bad phraseology there. While I was doing a few jobs in their kitchen I noticed some patches of dried blood on the floor. After enquiring, I discovered mother was in such a hurry to take down her England flags from the window last night, she stood on a chair and then toppled off, cutting her ankle and further bruising her damaged ego. GAWD, I thought looking after kids was bad enough, but these geriatrics can run rings round them. Anyway, thanks to lethomson for the great merit badge and to alfred booth, wanbli ska   for taking time to read and review some of my stories. It's been a long time since I received any number of positive reviews and it certainly gave me a lift. Check out his blog if you have time; it's a good one. Time to crack open a can I believe - only for dehydration purposes you understand. |
| It is now. I DID go to the gym this morning - halo shining, muscles flexing, flab looking for a new home. Hubby called me a slob last night because I didn't want to go as early as him, so I made sure I was dressed and bag packed by 7.30am when I woke him up to tell him I was ready. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I spent the afternoon at my parent's house, where my mother couldn't decide if she wanted to watch football, tennis or do a jigsaw. Attempting to do all three means her knickers are totally twisted now and she's not sure if Portugal are on Centre Court or Federer has a piece missing. She really can't multi-task at her age. There was some good news however. On Wednesday she lost her glasses. This is a regular habit of hers but it gives them both something to do and provides physical exercise for them as they ransack the house from top to bottom in search of the errant spectacles. No luck this time so I wasn't looking forward to a second search myself in the seering heat which has finally arrived in England. When I arrived my mum was washing a few 'smalls' in the sink. She has a washing machine but still likes to do a bit of hand washing for some reason, although I suspect she's forgotten how to use the machine anyway. But I digress ...oh look a chicken. I said I'd peg the washing out for her, fetched the peg bag from the cupboard, reached inside for a peg and brought out...her absent glasses. God does move in mysterious ways. Anyway, after England went into extra time and the tennis was going with serve I decided I'd walk home. The town I live in is rather deprived and certainly not a thriving, lively place at the best at times. There are many empty retail properties, boarded up shops and the traffic system has to be the worst in the country. Normally, it takes ten minutes to cross a road as vehicles build up at the excessive number of traffic lights. Today I walked through a ghost town. No people, no traffic, no waiting. Everyone glued to their TV sets agonising over the no score match against Portugal. I knew there was no score in extra time as from every house I passed only the sound of commentary and crowd noise hummed through the open windows. A good job really as had England scored I think the reaction of our devoted fans may have caused unstable buildings to fall and I had no wish to be underneath them. I arrived home just in time to see the fiasco of a penalty shoot out. Why don't they just do that to start with and save us the pain? What do you mean stop laughing? I'm absolutely heartbroken. So England go out of the World Cup in the usual fashion. The nation takes down its flags and wears a black armband. Well maybe now we can return to some semblance of normality and my computers won't run at a snail's pace due to the glut of football fans surfing soccer websites and placing bets. Unless of course, they all decide to switch to tennis and start putting money on Andy Murray winning Wimbledon. Oh, perish the thought. He's not English, but Scottish and the first to point that out in no uncertain and often impolite terms. Summer in England - Sport, Sport and more Sport. Anyone want to buy an England flag? |
| I was supposed to get up early this morning to go to the gym, but a case of the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. I have forged a note in my mother's handwriting though - Please excuse Scarlett from P.E. today as she really needs a break for several reasons. 1. After two very heavy days of serious shopping with friends, she's feeling very weary and needed some extra sleep. 2. It's going to be very warm today and the long walk from the gym to the train station would have been too much for her poor, aching wickle feet. 3. It's the fifth day of Wimbledon and she's hardly seen any of the tennis at all. She promises to do leg and arm exercises for couch potatoes while she watches it. 4. She's had very little time to spend on the computer and it's vital she catches up a bit at WDC. 5. Her home has been neglected and many household tasks need doing. She's sure cleaning the bog will burn calories and build muscle. She promises she will participate at the gym tomorrow morning, so please don't give her a detention or make her stay in at playtime. |
With little to report and apologies to those who may already have seen the following, I'll just quote a few funnies regarding the serious business of aging. I. I've sure gotten old. I've had two bypass surgeries, a hip replacement, new knees, fought prostate cancer and diabetes. I'm half-blind, can't hear anything quieter than a jet engine, take forty different medications that make me dizzy, winded and subject to blackouts. I have bouts of dementia and poor circulation when I can hardly feel my hands and feet. I can't remember if I'm 85 or 92 and I've lost all my friends. But thank God, I still have my driver's license. 2. Reporters interviewing a 104-year-old woman asked her what was the best thing about being 104. She simply replied, 'No peer pressure.' 3. The nice thing about being senile is you can hide your own Easter eggs. 4. An elderly woman decided to prepare her will and told her preacher she had two final requests. First, she wanted to be cremated and second, she wanted her ashes scattered at Walmart. 'Walmart?' the preacher exclaimed.' Why Walmart?' 'Then I'll be sure my kids visit me twice a week.' 5. My memory's not as sharp as it used to be. Also, my memory's not as sharp as it used to be. And remember - You don't stop laughing because you grow old, you grow old because you stop laughing. GAWD, that probably makes me about 174. |
| I'm not a big fan of weekends. For those who work all week I can well understand the anticipation of some free time to do as you like, but for me it's two days spent visiting parents, cleaning and doing jobs for them and indulging in the excitement of the latest jigsaw. Yesterday, after announcing hubby and I are going to Crete in July, I was subjected to an afternoon of war memories, as my mum's brother was posted there during WW2. Sunday has been even worse than usual due to the nation's obsession with football. This morning the T.V, and radio discussed England's chances in their match today, including details of the whole squads fitness, lifestyle, sex life and bowel movements. This afternoon the hype mounted as England prepared for their match against Ecuador. God help anyone who talks of the weather or Sunday dinner on such an auspicious occasion. As I walked to my parent's house the streets and roads were deserted as the whole nation prepared itself for an afternoon of groaning and cursing as our team struggle to get near the opponent's goalpost. Flags fly from every car and house window, including my parent's I'm ashamed to admit. Mother's idea of course, my dad's a Yank and not bitten by the soccer bug. Thank God for small mercies. Mother sat through the match, alternating between swearing at the referee and urging on our hotchpotch of defensive players, As I dusted around their lounge, avoiding standing in front of the television, she commented on how good-looking some of the players are. 'Oh yes,' I agreed readily. 'The thing is these sort of nations are pure bred and have classic looks. Particularly the Italians and Brazilians. Not like the English, just a lot of mongrels we are really. I mean Wayne Rooney looks like an ugly version of Shrek.' 'I was talking about the ENGLISH side.' she replied. CLANG. I should have known better than to infer the English are less than perfect. Patriotism is something my mother excels in. I'm surprised at times she even talks to me, being half American. She doesn't speak to my father very much either, but that's another story. So England manage to scrape through to the last eight with the one goal from the squeaky-voiced Beckham and since then the match, goal, next opponents and statistics have been the sole topic of conversation in my home and probably every other in England, as well as every channel on television. Next Saturday, when England play their next match I'm tempted to go shopping in Nottingham. I reckon I might have the whole city to myself. And when England go out of the World Cup, as they surely will, I shall take great delight in watching all those flags being taken down and folded away for the next four years. What is it with this country that football is not a matter of life and death? It's MORE important. Oh well, at least the Wimbledon Tennis Championships start tomorrow. But no doubt the first few days will be dominated by following the Brits as they fail miserably to make any impression. GAWD Beam me up Scottie. |
| I had quite a few smiles reading the following, submitted by a reader of one of our Newspapers. As serious writers I'm sure you'll find the advice invaluable. Some tips for budding writers. 1. Verbs has to agree with their subjects. 2. Prepositions are not words to end sentences with. 3. And don't start a sentence with a conjunction. 4. It is wrong to ever split an infinitive. 5. Avoid cliches like the plague. They're old hat. 6. Also, always avoid annoying alliteration. 7. Be more or less specific. 8. Parenthetical remarks (however relevant)are(usually)unnecessary. 9. Also, too,never,ever use repetitive redundancies. 10. No sentence fragments. 11. Contractions aren't necessary and shouldn't be used. 12. Foreign words and phrases are not apropos. 13. Do not be redundant; do not use more words than necessary. It is highly superfluous. 14. One should never generalise. 15. Comparisons are as bad as cliches. 16. One word sentences? Eliminate. 17. Analogies in writing are like feathers on a snake. 18. The passive voice is to be ignored. 19. Eliminate commas, that are, not necessary. 20. Never use a big word when a diminutive one would suffice. 21. Use words correctly, irregardless of how others use them. 22. Understatement is always the best way to put forth earth-shaking ideas. 23. Eliminate quotations. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said: 'I hate quotations. Tell me what you know.' 24. If you've heard it once, you've heard it a thousand times: resist hyperbole; not one writer in a million can use it properly. 25. Puns are for children, not groan readers. 26. Go around the barn at high noon to avoid colloquialisms. 27. Even if a mixed metaphor sings, it should be derailed. 28. Who needs rhetorical questions? 29. Exaggeration is a billion times worse than understatement. 30. Proofread carefully to see if you any words out. Apologies for the over-lengthy list - not mine.lol |
| Sometimes we do something or go somewhere just to say we've done it, not because we're passionate about it. Whether that's right or wrong is open to debate but I have no wish to start one. Visiting Royal Ascot is something I can now say I've done, but with hand on heart I can't say it was one of the most wonderful outings of my life or that I'll want to do it again. The journey took almost four hours which is far too long for a fidget bottom like moi. Much as I enjoy the luxury of riding in a stretched limo, there are only so many word games you can play and wine before noon has to be limited with a long day ahead. The weather was not kind. It could have been worse had it rained, but a really strong wind made it a very chilly day and difficult to hang onto your hat, as well as paper plates, plastic beakers etc. There were very limited seating areas and huge throngs of people, resulting in many pairs of aching feet. At one stage one of my friends and I lost sight of our group and trying to spot them in a sea of fancy hats took over an hour. I'm not by nature a gambler and don't get a buzz out of seeing horses racing to the finishing line. However, I did join in the spirit and place a few small bets, but all my horses seemed to be the unambitious sort. I swear some of them could have been involved in photo finishes apart from the fact it was probably dark by the time they crossed the line. Much as I detest the yob element of England's football fans who cause havoc and bring shame upon our nation, I equally dislike the rich and arrogant who stroll around places like Ascot in clothing that would cost the ordinary person a years' wages and think nothing of placing bets in the hundreds of pounds region. There is still a great deal of snobbery in England which is so evident at such places. Pomp and ceremony may bring in the tourists but it's not for me I'm afraid. Of course I didn't grump, we DID have some laughs and made the best of the day, but I was glad to return to my humble home, very tired and cold and none the wiser for the experience. I leave you with some photographs of our trip to Ascot.   } }  }          |
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