Tuesday, 9 October 2012


About 12 hours ago (whilst in the shower) I had a funny post whizzing around my head, now I'm not sure whether to write it and can't quite remember how it went - dang!

But here are the basics:

I was quite happy with the fact that for three days I haven't had to wear a pantie liner so this means I am - a) officially a shrivelled, dried up invisible old hag. sigh, and b) I have, as my BF says, 'healed over', like a shorter (much), fatter (very) Sindy doll. deeper sigh. (well it has been four years, darling!)

For those British people who remember Les Dawson's Cissie and Ada sketches, with much pursing of lips, mouthing of strategic words and arm/boob lifting, that is how I was imagining the 'conversation'. [sorry I don't know how to add a clip]

I also have a new partial denture - go me! (bloody hurts to remove so will take some getting used to!)

So, was that enough for you, or could I go further... nah, when I read it over a little bit of sick came up - bok!

'Night then.

(No X  tonight cos I have embarrassed myself!)

I am so going to regret this in the morning.



  1. You are funny! I have a metal bridge in my mouth, been there for almost forty years and they do hurt at the start but then you get used to them and they get easier.

  2. Yep, slow and steady, tiny bites and lots of baby calgel.
    I wish you could have been in my kitchen earlier, the shrieking fit I had at two of my darlings whilst cooking dinner (why won't they listen - I don't want to do it anymore) anyway, back to the shrieking was a funny one and my daughter was on the floor, couldn't breathe, blackcurrant squash coming out of her nose, son was creased and I'm glaring, God I wish I could flare my nostrils, that would have been so effective!.
    The reason - I'm madly sending son texts enquiring arrival home for dinner (I had even stood there peeling sticky stuff off a spray bottle label rather than peel the bloody potatoes), cos it's nearly ready and then I can hear his voice, he is only bloody upstairs chatting merrily with his sister for the last 15 minutes! gah! And, and, then the little shite (son) doesn't eat all his cos he don't feel vewwy well, we are on a bloody budget, I can't afford to throw food away.
    Well, anyway you had to be there (my voice went up many octaves and I'm sure the vein popped in my eye again) lol.
    I love em really, and they are good kids but by golly they are a trial! I have told them these are the stories I want re-told at my wake in years to come

  3. Well, you are writing your memoirs already...

    Children eventually grow up and leave home. I can imagine how you felt, finding out that he was upstairs!


This is a place for me, to try and make sense of my world, and my place in it. My family and friends do not know about this, I need some privacy, peace and freedom.
Please don' t leave unkind comments, I have enough of that in 'real life'.