Short Interlude

This is your Northampton correspondent speaking to you from Reidski's spare room. He is cooking. It smells very nice.It looks very nice too. Can't wait.

I am seizing this opportunity to say that I am all packed for my trip to Lapland - but as I typed those words I realised I have left my lovely warm scarf at home. Sod it. Never mind - it's not like it's going to be cold or anything, according to the multiple news reports I keep hearing about how mild it is north of the Arctic Circle these days.

Whatever the weather I shall have a great time with great friends, and shall have someone to look forward to seeing when I get back.

I could not have imagined this time last year that a) I would in fact still be blogging at the end of 2006 and b) would be about to wish you all a Very Happy New Year using Reidski's computer. Life is full of surprises!

Have a Great 2007 everyone.

The Birds! The Birds!

Football team saved by the birds.

Starlings to be precise.

More observant callers to this place may have noted my lot have been shocking at home all season. We knew why this was. It was not the managers fault. It was not the players fault*. It was not even my fault for going through my unlucky turnstile door. No - the problem has definitely been the absence of our starlings.

They used to be regular visitors and when they were swooping around in the sky above the stadium 1) we had something decent to watch, and 2) we always seemed to win. The absence of the starlings has been causing us serious concern. Had Peterborough United fans possibly lured them away with the promise of endless supplies of cake crumbs?

Yesterday the starlings returned.

We didn't dare get our hopes up when the first smallish flock was spotted. Were they there in sufficient numbers for the spell to work? But as we all watched, and I do believe we were all watching the sky rather than any thing going on on the pitch, more returned - many, many more...and suddenly - spectacularly - they split into seven flocks and it was so amazing we all cheered.

Twenty seconds later....

Yes, twenty seconds later....

We scored.

The reason I know it to be 20 seconds is that I have just watched a video on You Tube of the very display to which I just referred. SLIGHTLY tragic that the entertainment was so poor on the pitch that the guy with his phone video started filming the starlings but it does seem to offer conclusive proof that the starlings are the Cobblers lucky mascots!

Superstitious? Moi? Mate! I have seen the evidence!

Address of clip available on request.

* It was really.

Yesterday

Quite a successful day.

I didn't set my vacuum alight - so that was an improvement on last year.

Kids all got on, even during a prolonged game of Simpsons Snap.

I won the Sing-a-long Rock Star game on the playstation with my interpretation of Keane's 'Somewhere Only We Know'. The game will be going back tomorrow marked 'Faulty'.

The only 'OH MY GOD!'moment was when we watched Eastenders. Pauline Fowler dying I can cope with (celebrate even), but Sonia wearing exactly the same red dress as mine and looking bloody awful in it has caused me some lasting damage.


Today

Was quite successful too. Good walk this morning, followed by very good gin and tonic in pub, followed by a rare win for the Cobblers, and then yet another huge dinner as obviously we didn't have enough to eat yesterday.

Any more food and I will look as fetching as Sonia did when next I wear my red dress.

Best heckle at football yesterday expressed after about 40 minutes of watching nothing much happen: "I'm missing Chitty-Chitty Bang Bang for this!"



Latest weather report for Lapland is that it will be mainly sunny for the next two days. SUNNY???!! It isn't even supposed to get light at this time of year let alone be sunny.


Bloody cold though....hooray!

Something else to celebrate

At 3.45 yesterday (precisely) I admitted defeat, went out, and bought a new laptop.

It cost far less money than the other one did five years ago but has several features the other one did not.

The feature that impresses me most is the fact that it works.

A Bit of a Family Do

My daughter and I went to my aunt's last night. Plenty of other friends and family members were in attendance and ages ranged from 4 to 76. Food and drink was provided in abundance, and Father Christmas made a break from his busy schedule to put in an appearance.

Now I don't know if this is merely going to confirm the opinion that my family is totally and utterly beyond help but the main topic of conversation was the up coming results of BBC's Strictly Come Dancing Final. For those who have somehow managed to miss this programme a group of celebrity types are introduced to their experienced ballroom dancing partners and have up to 16 weeks - should they get as far as the final - to learn how to ballroom dance. Who stays in each week and who oges is decided by viewers phone votes. Competing last night were the only two left -rugby player Matt and his partner versus cricket player Mark and his partner.

I have to admit straight away that I love this programme myself although I have hardly managed to see any of this series. This I do realise after what I saw of it last night has been to my detriment as the cricket Mark Rampakash really is, for ladies of a certain age - i.e. anyone between 10 and 90)*, extraordinarily attractive and quite the sexy mover.

So anyway, luckily for us, Father Christmas had been and gone by the time 9.30 and the final arrived, and at this particular party - on went the tele and everyone crowded round. My dad remarked that the suspense was killing him - but he always has been somewhat prone to sarcasm. My sister was telling us all how she hates celebrity reality shows, and there by somewhat misjudged what was going on around her - the unconcealed nerves and excitement of the opposing camps - one supported Matt or Mark. There could be no in between. But I have to say by this point we were all fairly sure Mark must have won - going by the number of phone votes my aunt had made for him since we had all been there he would surely have won hands down. (She is a bit worried about next phone bill. My uncle more so.)

We watched both couples in the final dance off. Elderly aunts were noted to be drooling as Mark shook his arse about one last time. I needed a drink myself (another one). Tension was rising. The votes were in - 12.5 million of them last night alone - (hopefully not all originating from my aunts phone). My aunt had to leave the room - though we know she was listening at the door because of the way she yelled "Yes!" and ran back in to jump up and down instantly our Brucie said the words 'winner' and 'Mark' in the same sentence. We were all up on our feet cheering - although my dad did comment that he had thought Matt actually performed better in that final dance off thereby giving away the fact he had been paying as much attention as the rest of us.

It was at that point that the party really took off...on account of ladies favourite Mark winning Strictly Come Dancing.. Well, it is a good an excuse as any for a Christmas booze up isn't it?

* OK. My cousin Sarah didn't see the attraction, but then again she is engaged to Rebecca.

~and an apology

As my computer is not working yet again - and my sister's which I am struggling with right now isn't much better either - it is really hard to reply to comments right now. Please don't think I am being rude -I will respond properly as soon as normal service is resumed.

Though actually thinking about it- normal service with my flaming lap top is no service at all.

Best Bar of Chocolate Ever

Actually I don’t eat a huge amount of chocolate and I am one of those people who is pretty fussy about what chocolate I will eat.

I like a Kit Kat but it has to be a nice crisp one- preferably one that has been in the fridge first. I also like Cadbury’s Dairy Milk, Whole Nut and Flakes, both dipped and otherwise. I am very keen on hazelnut whirls that you get in Milk Tray boxes. Once I was given an enormous box of Dairy Milk which contained 8 hazelnut whirls on the top layer, and 8 on the bottom. I ate just one of them. The following day I went to have another – but to my horror every single one of them had gone from the top layer. I couldn’t believe it. I consoled myself with the thought of 8 more of the bottom layer – but they were gone too. Following the inquest it transpired my husband had got the munchies late the previous night – and had eaten them all. I would not have cared if he had eaten any of the other chocolates in there – but my hazelnut whirls? It was unforgivable. Things were never the same between he and I after that.

My MOST favourite chocolate though is Lindt – milk chocolate. It is SO beautiful. It is nostalgic for me because when I was little my dad travelled away a lot and when he came back he would usually bring me and my sister a box of Lindt chocolate bunnies, kittens or ducks. Loved them, but always felt guilty about biting their heads off because they looked so cute.

Reidski knows this is my favourite chocolate. Last night he gave me my Christmas presents – a wonderful collection of Clash singles on CD’s, followed by what seemed to me by size and taste to be a bar of Lindt chocolate to unwrap. I was right, and kissed him cos I thought it was very lovely of him to wrap me up a bar of my favourite chocolate. Then he told me to look at the back of the chocolate bar. He had stuck to it details of our tickets to see the one show in London I have wanted to see more than any other, but never thought I would ever be able to afford to see – Billy Elliot.

I am overwhelmed by this wonderful present and in fact started to cry.

I want to thank him again here where I hope he will read it, and also want to say to any one else who ever visits here that I hope you too get a present as perfect as I have had this year.

Happy Christmas Everyone.

xxxxx

Never again

Will I defend that bloke who manages Chelsea whose name escapes me. I should have listened to my mother who told me never to trust those swarthy Mediterranean types. "Stick with a good Scottish man" she told me and so I shall - even if one particular Scottish man of my acquaintance rather bizarrely thinks everton are right!

OK - through gritted teeth...maybe Andy Johnson is a reformed character. In my line of work we need to believe individuals can change for the better (difficult though that can be).

(but I doubt it)

Still on football - we have lost the nice Mr Gorman as our manager - he has resigned. Some supporters are saying a certain ex-manager of ours should be re-appointed. They are on about Ian Atkins - Mr Nasty Bully as opposed to Mr Gorman who =Mr Nice Guy, or indeed that nice honest Mr Johnson ( I am trying here - really I am). If Atkins came back I here by swear I would not return to watch my team until such time as he was sacked again.

There is so much I would like to add to this but the truth is - my lap top is knackered again, I am at my sister's - and her mouse isn't working well and it is doing my head in, so I will be back when I can find a computer that will actually operate properly for me.

Wonders - is it me that computers just react against?

In defence of Jose Mourinho.

Not something I find myself saying every day but at the risk of getting sued for defamation of character, Andy Johnson IS a diver.

I bring you in full this quote as it is simply hilarious -

"To publicly question the integrity of a player of Andrew's professionalism and honesty is not only wholly unacceptable and quite possibly defamatory but also, in our opinion, highly damaging for both club and player."

Andrew's HONESTY????? I am sorry???? They can't possibly be referring to the Andy Johnson who plays for England, Everton and previously Crystal Palace because that Andy Johnson is a cheating scum bag.

In my opinion -

These lot are nothing in the diving stakes compared to Andy Johnson.


Andy Johnson is a low life who brings the game of football into disrepute.






No, I don't like him, and yes - his diving twice and being granted two penalties (both converted) when we played Crystal Palace in January this year has got EVERYTHING to do with my feelings.

More worry

I'm not usually at home during the day. It makes a nice change when I am here and get to see my kids getting in after school. They are always surprised to see me and appear pleased at least until the moment it dawns on them I am working on the computer and that they will have to fore go the pleasure of MSM.

It didn't work out like that today though.

My 9 year old niece arrived at the expected time.

My 13 year old arrived at the expected time.

It took me a while to realise that actually, my sons should have been home before my daughter - because one of their friends has passed his driving test and has been giving them lifts.

I can't describe the horrible feeling that instantly took up residence in my stomach. No work has been done since 3.55 whilst every possible horrific scenario played on my mind.

They have just breezed through the door blissfully unaware of the angst they have been causing me. Then they asked how much longer I was going to be as they need to get on MSM.

This evening I remember that I love normal....and how indescribably precious our kids are.

Love this

But I wouldn't want to live next door!

Thanks to Shooting Parrots for the seasonal jolity.

Well if it isn't him

He deserves to be arrested on the grounds of sheer stupidity.

If it is him let's hope the Sunday Mirror's bizarre interview doesn't compromise his trial.

In my case

it led to a meeting yesterday with Reidski's three big brothers.

And yes Yorkshire Pudding - I really could have done with a translator and did a lot of nodding and smiling as I hoped was appropriate.

If my nodding and smiling was NOT appropriate they will no doubt as I type be describing their youngest brother's new 'sort' as a Care in the Community sort, who does an awful lot of inane nodding and grinning.

The more I think about it the more worried I become so time to switch my attention to less worrying matters.....

Football? No, recent form far too worrying.

My sister? No, way, way too worrying.

Lapland for New Year? No, I keep hearing there is as yet no snow in Lapland which is worrying on a personal level as well as on a Global Warming type level.

Christmas? No, too worrying on abuse of credit card limits level.

My post qualifying qualification? That what I am supposed to be working on right now rather than aimlessly blogging when I have a deadline to meet? That is actually so worrying I really am going to have to get back to the subject at hand - Anti Discriminatory Practice. But don't worry - I will spare you the details of that one.

Adieu.

How to blog

Did anyone else see this little article in the Guardian Weekend by Guy Browning?
As he points out, it is never a good idea to start a post with the words "I don't know what to write about today" Not exactly up there with "It is a truth universally acknowledged" as a marvellous opener is it? I often feel that way, but try and stick to the rule 'if in doubt - don't bother.'

Guy Browning also thinks we are all a weary and cynical lot and that if I called this 'Sunny Thoughts For Today' nobody, but nobody would ever come near. (Any comment pointing out hardly any one comes near here anyway will not be appreciated!)

So I found myself in agreement with what our Guy was writing but wait...what does he end by saying? 'Never meet someone you contacted through a blog. Your disappointment in them will be nothing compared to their disappointment in you.'

Oh Lord! Now I AM worried.

This year I have met in this order Jim, Lisa, Cloud, Martin and John and really liked all of them - but they were probably horribly disappointed in me...bugger it! There was someone else?????

Ah well, all I can say about meeting Reidski is that if he was terribly disappointed when he met me, he was ever so polite, managed to disguise the fact, and is still doing so quite well nearly a year later. So regarding Guy's advice - stick with the care with opening lines and titles, but if you want to meet another blogger - take that risk, although you never know where that will lead to.....

It doesn't matter

Earlier I was pleased to read that they have discovered that circumcision significantly reduces a man's chances of contracting HIVand I was even more pleased to hear the news of this development given to us by the spokesman for the World Health Organisation, Dr Kevin de Cock.

But that was five hours ago before my latest battle with my sodding PC which has been absolutely determined I should not get on line tonight. Some time in the last five hours I appear to have had a sense of humour failure and can't see why I ever thought that name was mildly amusing in the first place.

Strange people

With all the horror that is going on in Ipswich at the moment you might not imagine that some pedant would take the time to ring the BBC to point out Ipswich is a town and not as described on the radio a city.

But someone did.


On the same subject I heard someone else on a phone-in this morning say that no one cared about a load of slags being bumped off. If I were in the police force I would be making a point of visiting that callous bastard - preferably at the most anti-social time in the early hours of the morning possible. Well he has surely to be a legitimate suspect doesn't he?????

How much my sister hates waste part 2.

Following on from this discussion with mum my poor mother now stands accused of throwing away a piece of cold toast instead of bringing it from my sister's house to here and giving it to my rabbit. Mum insists she ate the piece of toast but my sister does not believe her and is not happy because as we all know she really hates waste. As there is no supporting evidence in the form of a cold piece of toast it is difficult to know what to think.

I have just sat and listened to a full scale row over this piece of toast.

Sometimes I worry about my family.

You see!

He told us he was ill!


A tribute to modern medicine - keeping Pinochet out of the clutches of the courts since 1998.

Football, bloody football.

Another depressing afternoon spent at the Cobblers yesterday.

We play a nice to watch passing game. We have an excellent young goal keeper and a fairly tight defence. One or two of our players in midfield although they are not so young as they used to be eg Ian Taylor and Eoin Jess are still exceptional players at this level - but our 'strikers' are facing the biggest crisis of confidence since records of crisis's of confidence began. Lost count of how many golden scoring opportunities went begging and also lost at home (AGAIN), this time by two goals to(inevitably) nil.

That after one and a half days spent Christmas shopping in Milton Keynes (The Horror), and then encountering a posh twat in the carpark who said "At least the Saints won." I nearly had to hit him. Have I mentioned how much I hate my town's rugby team? Well, it's not so much the team I hate as their supporters who all seem to be there as they think the 'rugger' is the place to be seen. They are the kind of people who if forced to talk to you are looking none too subtly over your shoulder for someone influential to talk to. And as the saying goes "Where were they when the Saints were crap?"

Anyway, by the time I met Reidski last night I was very much in need of a drink. Had a great time with him as ever, prevented from being 100% perfect only by his regular reminders that "Never mind - at least Millwall won." As that means they are now only two points below us that news was not exactly guaranteed to cheer me up. :-(

Pardon?

According to the vet I heard on the radio today this cat (if we could hear him which we can not - it is a photograph) (I felt I needed to clarify that point) is producing 'inappropriate vocalisation.'

Translated this means the cat is making a right bloody row.

A social worker could not have phrased it more obscurely...and I should know.

'London to Brighton'

is outstanding.

We saw it last night and I think the trauma induced by watching it is just about starting to receed.

Richard Hawley - The Ocean

I've put this here for Martin and John who I think saw this performed live.

Also because it is so beautiful.

A missing sandwich bag.

I was telling my mum about the phone call I got when I was on the loo at Scratchwood Service Station. She may have trumped me with tales of stupid phone calls received from members of my family.

My sister has a catch phrase which goes "You know how much I hate waste." We have all heard it so many times now we just repeat in unison, "Yes, we know how much you hate waste." An example at random - On Thursday she walked down the road from her house to mine carrying an opened tin of tomatoes. It turned out to be a gift because "You know how much I hate waste."

She saves and reuses sandwich bags. I do not have a problem with that but.....

Whereas I was on the loo, mum was in the bath when the phone rang. She got out to answer it. It stopped as she got there. She gave it the 1471, and it was my sister's number. She doesn't ring mum much so mum thought it must be important* and delayed her return to her bath whilst she rang her back.

My mum - "You wanted me?"

My sister - "Have you moved the empty sandwich bag I left on the window sill?"

My mum - "No."

My sister - "Are you sure?"

My mum - "Yes."

My sister - "It's just that I did see a sandwich bag thrown away in my bin the other day and you know how much I hate waste."

My mum - "Is that what you rang me for?"

My sister - "Yes."

My mum - "Goodbye."


* Mum was wrong.

We were going to go to football on Saturday

but we didn't actually manage to get up in time.


I am very glad we stayed in bed for various reasons but primarily for this reason.

Guess we will just have to 'concentrate on the league.'

Friday

I went to Reidski's Work Christmas do. I was very nervous like I always get when I really want people to like me and for them not to spend the following Monday at work asking each other what on earth he sees in that idiot?

Some of his friends I had already met which did help. It is always lovely to see Messalina and I have got to say that she looked radiant that night...really, really happy.

Free bar all night helped too. The only problem with that being that although I talked to lots of his mates during the evening I have very little recollection of who I talked to and what on earth I talked to them about. I do remember one bloke correctly identifying the perfume I was wearing. That has never ever happened before in my entire life.I was impressed even if I can't remember who it was.

I know I told his Millwall supporting boss that I never ever shouted 'Come on Luton' whilst sitting with the Millwall supporters when they were playing Luton. Had he not most unfortunately been sitting right next to me when I DID actually shout 'Come on Luton' there would have been more of a chance that he might have taken my word on that.

One of Reisdki's ex's was there. It is OK though. I am reconciled to the fact that I could never ever compete with the bosom (HUGE!!!!) she had on show and I can live with that fact.

But what I DO remember very clearly indeed was that Reidski danced with me. First time ever, and apparently his first time for many years, though I don't know why. The boy can dance and he 'done good'.

Everyone I met was really nice (I feel fairly sure I would remember if anyone hadn't been), and it was a Real Good Do.


Fingers crossed that tomorrow the discussion in his office will not be 'What on earth does he see in that idiot?'

Overheard in a pub yesterday

From very loud bloke indeed.



"I have never vaselined my arse in my life."





(Am hoping I beat Reidski to mentioning that.)

back to reality

I have just got home from a totally brilliant weekend spent with Reidski. There is loads I want to say about the past few days, and no doubt there is loads I shall say about the past few days but first a word on what it is like being a mother.

On my way back I stopped at Scratchwood services in need of a 'comfort break.' They have just done up their loos there incidentally - very nice facilities indeed. So anyway, I am having a wee when my phone rings. It is 15 year old son. I answer in hushed tones, not really wanting all the other women to overhear me having a chat on the phone whilst on the toilet. "Someone has moved George's jumper!" he announces. "Pardon?" says I. "SOMEONE has moved George's jumper!" "Dearest number 2 son, what the fuck are you talking about?" So the explanation such as it is goes that on Friday he brought home from school by mistake the jumper belonging to his mate George, and George took his home. His has been washed and pressed by George's mum. George's had been 'moved' and had been washed and pressed by no one.So he rings me, who has not been in the house since Friday morning and who had no idea he had brought back George's jumper by mistake, but I am nevertheless expected to be able to solve the mystery of who moved George's jumper, whilst sitting on the loo at a motorway service station.

We mum's can often work miracles but I had to point out to him that there were limits to even my magical powers and could I suggest he bloody well looked rather harder than I suspected he had looked so far to find George's missing jumper.