A sad but true fact

is that inevitably there comes a time in life when you find yourself moaning that 'things were so much better when I was a lass.' So here, to try and sound like 21st Century Woman is something that was so much worse when I was a lass.....

Going to the Dentist.

Now those four little words were absolutely guaranteed to strike terror into my younger self to such a degree that my mum stopped actually telling me about any dental appointment until the last possible minute. I suffered at the dentist as a child. I can still hear the hideous drill, remember how vile having fillings was, recall how awful having an x-ray was with chunks of plate stuck in my mouth that were too big for my cheeks, and how sick I was after having the gas to knock me out before they took four of my teeth from my overcrowded mouth. Even as a young adult the horror of having two wisdom teeth extracted at the dentist and the bottom tooth having to be drilled into little pieces to get the bloody thing out whilst the radio played 'Didn't we have a lovely day the day we went to Bangor?' will be with me till my dying day.

I forgot until this morning that we all have to go to the dentist today. I told the kids. My sub conscious memories prepared me for a hysterical reaction. "Yeah - fine." they say.

It occurs to me that the three of them have absolutely no idea that going to the dentist can equal pain. D and H have had 1 filling each and didn't feel a thing. J has had a worse time having to have 4 teeth out and a brace to straighten out his teeth, but he chose to go through all that and now has perfect teeth. He doesn't associate the dentist with pain either as any discomfort he experienced was at home when his teeth were shifting around.

So I don't have to worry at all about my kids going to the dentist. One day I am sure that I too will get over the residual fear.





There is a post script to this. When we were waiting at the dentist's reception a woman came through the door and her phone rang. Her ring tone was the theme to Psycho. Everyone cracked up laughing.

Blair Rock Project

Radio 5 have got a thing going this week to find the best record to illustrate the Blair years. They have narrowed it down to 10 all released during the past ten years and they are:

BITTERSWEET SYMPHONY - The Verve
ANGELS - Robbie Williams
I PREDICT A RIOT - Kaiser Chiefs
I BET YOU LOOK GOOD ON THE DANCEFLOOR - Arctic Monkeys
FIX YOU - Coldplay
YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL - James Blunt
BABYLON - David Gray
STOP CRYING YOUR HEART OUT - Oasis
TAKE ME OUT- Franz Ferdinand
CAN'T STAND ME NOW - The Libertines

I can see where most of them are coming from but the connection to 'I bet you look good on the dancefloor' escapes me as does 'You're Beautiful' but that is surely in the wrong competition and should be up for the Worst Record of the Blair years.

Anyway, our vote counts....which makes a nice change. Details can be found here.


But even 'You're Beautiful' would not stand a chance in the Worst Record of the Past Ten Years Competition. Nothing could possibly hold a candle to this piece of vomit inducing sentimental crap. Not in the last ten years, nor indeed EVER!

I lied

The number of matches I saw Reidski play yesterday in his tournament did not in the event depend upon how much rain fell, but upon how bad the traffic was on the M1 through Bedfordshire. The traffic through Bedfordshire was fucking awful and I saw precisely none of his six matches. But I was there to see him collect the wooden spoon on behalf of his team. I was so proud :-)

I was also there at the bar to hear a staff member ask another if a wallet had been handed in. It hadn't. It never occured to me that the missing wallet could have belonged to Reidski, but clearly my recent run of luck has started to rub off on him and he had indeed had his wallet pinched. He took that so much better than I took having my bag pinched that I feel ashamed of my own reaction to that particular set back.

The tournament was in Barking. Through lack of attention on the way back into London I took us on the wrong road. I'm not saying the road we took was rough but we did fear we had strayed into Warrior's territory. Jesus H Christ.

Having escaped with our lives from North Woolwich we needed a drink and stopped off in Whitechapel as illustrated.



It has changed a wee bit since that photo was taken. Here, just down the road from The Blind Beggar we witnessed turf wars. Various gangs all trying to flog illegal DVD's and trying to scare off the opposition gangs. Crime? Whitechapel? How unusual.

London never fails to dazzle me with its contrasts.

After a lovely evening in with curry and watching Jerry Maguire. (Altogether now -"Show me the money!") we had a walk in Primrose Hill with what appeared to be all of London's assembled middle classes. A couple with matching cycles and bike helmets over took us talking loudly with the guy braying "Yah! But what DO you imagine the peasants in the fields of Thailand think of that daaaahling?" Reidski - "That you're a total arse?"

And then me back north the slow way - this time it was Hertfordshire that was motorway hell.

And I am missing him already.

I'm on my own

It doesn't happen very often.

Both the boys are out at the cinema. A mate of theirs is driving them into town and back, but I am trying not to worry about that. My daughter is away on a sleepover. Had I known everyone was going to be out I would have gone down to see Reidski, but I have to wait till tomorrow to see him. He's playing in a 5 a side football tournament tomorrow - how many matches I see will be entirely dependent upon just how bad the rain is during the afternoon. Yes, I know - fair weather girl friend. Next weekend he is playing at a real football stadium - and I will be there in Edinburgh to witness that. Should be a great few days up there and we are hoping to have a pint or three with the Scottish Patient who is totally oblivious to the fact that Reidski and I owe our relationship to him. We met in the comments box on his blog. Now I ask you - can you get any more romantic than that?!

Anyway, back to the solitude that is my lot for this evening*.


It is bloody marvellous!

1) Have had the laptop all to myself without any 'Are you going to be much longer?' hassle.

2) Have not had to argue with my daughter over whether or not Big Brother is rubbish (she thinks it is) (no - she doesn't really.) .

3) Practise the belly dancing I learnt last night when I went out to a Moroccan restaurant without fear of ridicule.

4) Can play whatever music I want. Currently playing this



and trying to decide which track I love most, but the answer seems to be which ever one is playing at any given moment. 'Made of Stone' right now - sensational.

If only I wasn't actually feeling very guilty knowing that I am passing on the perfect opportunity to paint my recently damaged kitchen ceiling this evening wouldn't be at all bad.

And now I am off to read with some reluctance. Not that I don't love the book I am reading it is just that when I have finished it I will have read all nine Henning Mankell books about the Swedish detective Karl Wallender and I don't know how I am going to cope without another one of then to get stuck into. (Reidski thinks he is pish, and yes, I admit the idea that a portly detective in deepest Scandinavia could have without even knowing it have saved Nelson Mandela from assassination was a little far fetched, but that didn't stop it being a real page turner of a story (White Lioness.))

* Until about 11.00pm when 5 teenage boys will descend upon the house, take over the lounge, and eventually crash out at about 4.00 in the morning.

Sitting here crying

because I just read this. Incredibly moving.



Found via Pixie.

A not so positive outcome

as this one was.

Once upon a time there was a little girl and when she was 3 years old she remembers her mummy had a baby boy, but her wicked daddy made her mummy give the baby away.

The little girl grew up but she never forgot the baby brother she never knew. She never got married and never had a family of her own. She was lonely. She vowed to find the brother who was taken away from her. For many many years she sought him here, she sought him there but to no avail. She did not even know his name and could find out nothing. Where could he have gone?

When she was 78 years old there was a change in the law. As an avid watcher of daytime television she learnt of this change in the law and she picked up the phone to a lady called Jane for the first of very many times. When she spoke to this lady called Jane, Jane was unable to get off the phone and had to abandon all hopes of getting anything else done for the rest of the day. The little girl now aged 78 had become a very determined and formidable old lady, who can also manipulate the lady called Jane by bursting into tears at any point when it looked as if Jane was about to get off the phone to her. Jane promised to do all she possibly could to see if the 'baby brother' could be found. She searched and searched for any information and found out his name. Eureka! It would have been a little bit easier if his surname had not been the most common one in Great Britain but Jane pressed on.

It took over twelve months, and what seemed like much longer than that in contact with the world's most difficult elderly lady but Jane found the lady's 'baby brother' aged 75 for her. She made an old lady very happy....for about 2 days which was as long as it took for the same very difficult old lady to announce to me of the brother she had looked for all of her adult life "I can not stand him!"

We are (nearly) the Champions

Reading have narrowly pipped Northampton Town to the Premiership championship.

Obviously I am totally gutted by this narrow defeat for my side. I blame the woman who sits in front of me in a very dodgy claret shell suit. No doubt the fashion police made a note of that.

Liverpool finished a woeful one point off relegation to the Conference League. I would offer them some fashion tips but looking at this picture I have decided they are beyond help.

I want to play!

Wait a minute, wait a minute. You ain't heard Just Jane yet!

Which movie was this quote from?

Get your own quotes:

From Reidski who got it from Andrew Brown

Schadenfreude

is a great word.

And I think the following tale illustrates it rather well.

My oldest friend - by which I mean the friend I have been friends with for the longest and not the oldest person amongst my friends - (since we were six in fact) is in the same line of work as me but where as I am pretty much rock bottom in the pecking order, she after 30 years working in our area is now practically at the very top. Whilst this does mean she earns shed loads of money I do not envy her and would not want her job no matter how much it paid. This is one example why.

I was out with her last Friday night and I had to tell her off for not being careful enough with her handbag. Since the incident previously related here I am particularly vigilant when it comes to handbags in bars. Anyway, seeing how extremely careless she was we asked her if she had had her bag stolen before and the answer was not surprisingly yes - many times. The last time was fairly recent. The powers that be had reached a particularly nasty decision that a residential home for the elderly was going to be closed. My friend who profoundly disagreed with this decision was nevertheless the poor sod who had to go and give this decision to the elderly people who would be forced to leave their home. She drove over there totally preoccupied with what on earth she could possibly say to soften the blow (answer - nothing). She arrived and went straight in not realising, as she was so focused on what she had to do, that she had left her handbag in full view of passers by on her front seat.

She spoke to the assembled residents. It was as awful as you may imagine and there was lots of anger and many tears. My friend meanwhile had to stand her ground and defend the indefensible.

Then the door opened and in came a staff member who in front of everyone said to my friend "I'm so sorry. Your car window has been smashed in and someone was seen running away with your handbag."

And everyone in that room over the age of 65 cheered.

My current breakfast cereal of choice

is Kellogg's Special K with peach and apricot. The dried pieces of fruit give a really tasty boost to what would otherwise be, quite frankly, a rather dull breakfast of 'Crunchy Rice and Wheat Flakes'. This morning though I have been most displeased. "Where?" I ask myself crossly as I rummage deep into the cereal packet "are the peach and apricot pieces?" It is NOT good enough. If I buy a packet of Special K with peach and apricot then the least Kellogg's could do is to ensure I have a reasonable proportion of peach and apricot pieces within that packet. I could not find a single piece of either fruit. "Mr Kellogg will be hearing from me" I inwardly declared. On second thoughts however, as I have just noticed that I had in fact bought a packet of Kellogg's Special K sans peach and apricot, maybe I will just eat up what I have got in front of me and maintain a dignified silence on this distressing incident.


High time I brought you another historical 'fact' I think.

NUMBER 5 IN AN OCCASIONAL SERIES OF JANE'S HISTORICAL 'FACTS'

Kellogg's Corn Flakes were invented by a Dr. Kellogg in hopes that they would reduce masturbation. See here for further enlightenment.

Never a dull moment - though if you only read the start of this you may disagree....

OK - stay with me on this tale. A certain amount of scene setting is required.

Yesterday our village school was closed for a teaching training day so my mum came over to look after my niece whilst my sister was at work. For the benefit of anyone who has inexplicably not been playing very close attention to this site, my sister lives just up the road from me. Furthermore, my sons are having exams at the moment which means they are not always at school, and yesterday they were at home 'revising', by which of course I mean surfing the internet and emptying the contents of my fridge.

Now my sister does not have a washing line line for reasons only understood by her, but something to do with washing on a line making the place look untidy. Anyway, there were some wet towels in the house and mum had been considering taking them up to mine to put on my line and get dry, but she kept putting it off as a friend of my niece's was expected to come round to play. It got to about 2.00. The little friend had not yet turned up so mum decided she would take the washing up to mine. This is all very interesting isn't it? You wanted to read a story about how my mum put some wet towels on my washing line. But wait - it gets EVEN more exciting because whilst she was in my back garden she heard the phone ring. Yes I know - how thrilling - my mum heard my phone rang - what ever is going to happen next I hear you ask (that is to say, in the depth of my fevered imagination I hear you). OK - let me tell you what happened next. What happened next was she waited to see if anyone in the house answered it ..."Ring, ring, ring, ring"...but needless to say no one did because obviously my sons were far too busy 'revising' (chatting to mates on MSN)so she came in the back door to get it. After all - it might have been important.

Only she never did answer the phone.

Instead, my heroic and 72 year old mother found herself fire fighting as a basket of clothes - somewhat foolishly left on the ceramic cooker top - was ablaze. As she came in the door she was faced with the vision of flames rising to the ceiling. By means of much screaming and throwing of water around she managed with the belated assistance of more junior family members to extinguish the fire.

Well - the clothes are obviously ruined - and my kitchen floor isn't too good either as burning clothes got dropped on to it. The kitchen walls and ceiling are black as opposed to a usual bright yellow.

To be positive however, I still have a house, and no one was hurt.

It could so easily have been so very very much worse if my mum had not come in by sheer chance at the exact moment she did.

Whoever it was that rang our house at that time - I owe them.

And what with various thefts and car accidents all previously recorded in these parts
I am about to make my FIFTH insurance claim in 12 months - I will be blacklisted by insurance companies at this rate.

So that is my week so far - how are yours?

Gloom

The sun is hot already and the sky is a deep blue and I don't have to go to work. Positively My Most Favourite Kind of Day unless...........

I am faced with the prospect of taking the kids to see their 'other' family, AKA my in-laws.

Here is my advice to anyone ever considering getting married. When meeting the prospective in-laws ask your self "Are these people devout/deluded Roman Catholics?"

If the answer is "Yes" run a country mile, and NEVER go back.

I swear that the uptight lack of real warmth and inability to communicate with anyone who does not share their faith can all be explained by their religious beliefs.

Example - one of their daughters got pregnant before she was married...her dad refused to see his first grandchild who was the result of said pregnancy for over 18 months.

Another example - another sister has been married for 20 years. No one in the family knows what she and her husband do for a living because 'she doesn't like talking about it,' so therefore no one asks (although god knows I have tried to find out in my time).

Another example - a brother and his wife put each spoon away in the bowl of the spoon below it in the drawer to form a perfect pile of spoons. Naturally they do not have spoons that don't match. (OK, so this may not be down to religion but it is bloody madness isn't it?!?)

Most recent example - another sister (yes, true Catholics) has had major mental breakdown. But she doesn't want to see a doctor and so no one has insisted she see one - even though she is the mother of four kids who need a fully functioning mum. I have been warned off mentioning it at all following my rather strong expression of concern.

I have run out of excuses not to take the kids over to see them. Painting the bannister's has already been used (I kid you not, although it wasn't one of mine).So here goes.


*Grits teeth and starts to practice false smiles.*

Something I could have done without

at 4.30 in the morning....

A starling coming down the chimney into my bedroom and flapping around in a panic striken manner which was very nearly as panic stricken as the manner in which I was responding to this mini crisis.

What with the bird, me, and one of my cats all going mental I can't recommmend it as the most relaxing start to a day.

Opportunity Knocks

Much depended upon the result of the Championship Play Off Final

I am not talking about anything as trivial as the estimated £50 million pounds that the winners stood to gain. I am talking mother and son life long relationship.

17 year old is football mad. Christ knows where he gets that from but anyway he had studied the form and was convinced that the three victorious sides in the play off finals would be:

1) Bristol Rovers.
2) Blackpool.
3) West Brom.

SO convinced was he that he believed it was worth ten of his hard earned (peeling spuds down the chip shop) pounds. Saturday morning he wanted me to put a bet on for him for all three to win.

I was reluctant to do this for several hundred reasons. Obviously one should not as a responsible parent be encouraging an under age off spring to gamble. Wise words were directed at deaf ears on the subject of why it was a foolish thing to gamble. Other reasons for my reluctance included the fact that I have no idea HOW to put on a bet, and also that I am a lazy cow who couldn't be arsed to get in the car and drive for 5 miles to my nearest bookies. However, the nagging from a determined 17 year old can wear one down and some time later I found myself signing on to an on line gambling site.

I got registered no (well not many) problem(s). D and I then attempted to work out what to do next. It seemed that if he got all three results right he would win £134.00. Finally I had to put down my ten pounds payment. First attempt and it seemed I had given the wrong password. Second attempt and they didn't think my switch card existed. Third attempt and they thought I had just invented a new email address they had never heard of. Fourth attempt ...well, there was no fourth attempt. I lost patience. More heated words were exchanged with my son, but I said I had tried and I had failed, and none of the three sides would win anyway so he would end up thanking me. Hummmmm.

Saturday afternoon Play Off Final Number One. Bristol Rovers won. I would like to say that my son was mature enough not to make any reference to his ten pound bet that never was but much muttering ensued - and carried on and on.

Sunday I ran away to Reidski's to get away from the 'Fact' that I had cost him £134. Reidski and I watched Play Off Number Two. Blackpool won. As the final whistle blew I received a text. 'U WIL O ME £134'. It was beginning to look like I would never be able to go home again.

I discussed the final match with Reidski. He knows about these things. He told me what tremendous form West Brom are in. I wished I had never asked.

Monday at 3.00 finds a very nervous me perched on a bar stool in Reidski's local. West Brom start off looking by far the stronger side. Apart from the money he stood not to win because of me, I was worried he would think that any bet he wanted to make in future would be guaranteed to come off, and that I had contributed him to developing a life long gambling habit. As Good Parenting goes that scored approximately minus 1,549 points. As the match progressed Reidski had to keep telling me to calm down, although to get the full impact of just what being told to calm down during a football match by him you would really need to know what he is like watching a match that matters to him.

It never occured to me for a minute that Derby County would win..... but they did.
As the final whistle went I rang my son. "I saved you ten pounds" I announce in an annoying "I told you so" tone of voice. "Yeah, whatever" says he.

Thank god the football season is over.

Why?

Does it take Orange broadband up to 15 working days to provide Reidski with the internet service he had at his last place. He has the exact same phone number, the exact same broadband equipment, but it will take that long. I don't get it.

Anyway, he might be a bit quiet blog wise till it gets sorted out but he says he is missing you all already.



Also on the subject of Why? I still don't understand why David Beckham is off to play in the States. Well, yes, I do understand he will earn shed loads of money, but surely there is a limit to how much money anyone can spend, even if they are married to a person like the person he is married to. To me, he either wants to make proper use of his footballing skills or he does not. Yet here he is saying how much he wants a recall to the England team. To play for England does he not need to be playing top level football on a regular basis? Can he honestly expect to put in decent performances for England if he is popping back from the West Coast of the US to play? Or do superstars not suffer from jet lag like lesser mortals?

Now I'm off on one.

I hate seeing talented players opt to go and sit on the bench for sides like Chelsea rather than get out and play for some other side, albeit at a slightly lower wage. That is one reason why I am so glad to see Gareth Bale has chosen to go to Spurs rather than Man Utd or Arsenal. He's only 17, and he could have taken the money back in January but he wanted to stay and try and help Southampton get in the Premiership. I hope his career blossoms. Likewise players like Simon Cox and Alex Pearce, both of whom came to us on loan from Premiership Reading and played their hearts out every game - none of this "I am far too talented for this lowly arena" bollocks from them.

Do players who reach the level of Beckham remember what it feels like to play football for the sheer joy of it? Reidski lives for Wednesday evenings when he gets to play 5 a side with a few mates. Him and so many blokes like him for whom the chance of a professional footballing career will only ever be a pipe dream whilst David Beckham goes to swan around in LA. I ask again - Why?



(You are only saved from a prolonged rant by the need for me to get my arse along to my gym class.)

Smug Parent?

One does understand how very tedious it must be for those parents whose off-spring do not periodically win prestigious and coveted awards to read of the success enjoyed by such talented children as mine, so do please excuse this little outbreak of smugness.

My middle child has won an award!!!!!

He has finished school this week prior to doing his GSCE's. And he came back with a certificate which, when I got in late the other night, he had left on my pillow so I could see and wallow in his achievement before I went to sleep.

As voted for by all 240 students in his year group my son is officially......


MOST LIKLEY TO BE IN A BOY BAND!


What a relief! I no longer need to worry about impending disaster in his exams (much).

Tagged so here goes.

I was tagged by Dandelion.

First up -

Seven Things About Me That May Surprise You

1. My shoe size changed after I had my children. The never been pregnant me had size 4 feet, the have been pregnant me has size 5 feet. I have a wardrobe full of shoes that do not fit me, but I can't bring myself to throw them away.
2. I recently bought a pair of salad servers reduced from £17.00 to £12.00. At the checkout I noticed they went through at 12 pence instead of 12 pounds - and I didn't say anything.
3. Point number 2 above didn't make me feel guilty as it should have done.
4. Apparently it is likely I told 50% of the world's population to fuck off at the same time - if you were one of the persons on the receiving end of my message I do apologise. That was when I learnt never again to reply to spam mail urging me to - 'Reply at once!' with the words 'Fuck Off.' Because my e-mail address clearly indicates where I work and what my name is, people rang and complained about me. Actually, rather a lot of people rang and complained about me.
5. I said I hadn't done it, that it must have been some kind of a computer virus - and everyone believed me and apologised for accusing me so unfairly. I said it was quite alright, because I am good like that. And honest.
6. I loathe refering to myself as 'J.J', and don't know what I was thinking of using it when I fled my previous blog in haste. It gets right on my nerves and I would change it but it is just more hassle. It makes me sound like some prat from an 80's TV series about an advertising agency. And also it probably irritates me because...
7. My name is not Jane.

The rules:

1. Add a direct link to your post below the name of the person who tagged you. Include the city/state and country you’re in.
Nicole (Sydney, Australia)
Velverse (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia)
LB (San Giovanni in Marignano, Italy)
Selba (Jakarta, Indonesia)
Olivia(London, England)
ML (Utah, USA)
Lotus (Toronto, Canada)
Tanabata (Saitama, Japan)
Andi (Dallas [ish], Texas, United States)
Todd (Louisville, Kentucky, United States)
Miss Kendra (los angeles, california, u.s.a)
Jiggs Casey (Berkeley, CA, USA! USA! USA!)
Tits McGee (New England, USA)
Kat (Ontario, Canada)
Badgerdaddy (Ludlow, Shropshire, England)
Dandelion (England, Great Britain)
All Cobblers The Sticks, England.

THAT WAS A NIGHTMARE! That took me ages! I just hope all those links actually work.

2. List out your top 5 favorite places to eat at your location.

As I have two places I now call home I will use both localities...helpful as how could I be expected to find 5 good restaurants out in the sticks where I live?

1. Mondellos. Not just great food and great value, but we always get a kiss from the manageress when we go there - and often a free amaretto too. My very favourite Italian restaurant EVER!
2. This pub is smart but friendly. Our favourite barman works here.
3. A posh Indian in a former shoe factory.
4. Lemonia - quite a famous Greek restaurant in North London. Lovely, lovely, lovely.
5. The Fat Duck - she lies.
The Real Number 5. Great village pub with stupendous fat chips!

3. Tag 5 other people (preferably from other countries/states) and let them know they’ve been tagged.

OK, I will politely request that Joe tries this, Nat, George,Foil Woman and Spunky.

If any of you five do fancy giving it a go e-mail me and I will send you the links which will save rather a lot of time!

Food, Glorious Food

Friday lunchtime I met up with a friend of mine and she took me for my very first ever Dim Sum here. Yes, I know - I am at heart very provincial and eating stuff like dim sum is still very 'London' to me. The conversation was quite food centred too because her husband is currently working with Heston Blumenthal on his forthcoming book. I had looked up Heston before meeting her because he had already been mentioned and I didn't want it to be too obvious that I knew nothing whatsoever about Heston.

Anyway, I learnt that he owns The Fat Duck Restaurant which I had actually heard of. My friend has been invited there with her husband and her 10 year old was affronted that he was not included in the invite and asked "Why can't I come? I like ice cream!" She thought that was very funny and laughed a lot so I laughed too in what I hoped was a knowing in on the joke manner.It was only when I went back to research my subject more thoroughly that I really got it....
NITRO-SCRAMBLED EGG AND BACON ICE CREAM??? Give me chocolate chip everytime. And what is nitro-scrambled anyway?

I mentioned this on arrival at Loughton and I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised to discover that my friends there had eaten at the Fat Duck. She showed me the menu. I reproduce it below:

MENU SAMPLE FOR TASTING MENU
ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN POUNDS
NITRO-GREEN TEA AND LIME MOUSSE (2001)
OYSTER AND PASSION FRUIT JELLY,
LAVENDER POMMERY GRAIN MUSTARD ICE CREAM,
RED CABBAGE GASPACHO
QUAIL JELLY,
CREAM OF LANGOUSTINE,
PARFAIT OF FOIE GRAS
OAK MOSS AND TRUFFLE TOAST(Homage to Alain Chapel)(who he? ed.)
SNAIL PORRIDGE
Joselito ham
ROAST FOIE GRAS
Almond fluid gel, cherry, chamomile
"SOUND OF THE SEA"
SALMON POACHED WITH LIQUORICE
Perthuis asparagus, “Manni” olive oil
BALLOTINE OF ANJOU PIGEON
Black pudding “to order”,
Chinese pigeon cracker
Pickling brine and spiced pigeon juices
HOT AND ICED TEA (2005)
MRS MARSHALL’S MARGARET CORNET
PINE SHERBET FOUNTAIN (PRE-HIT)
MANGO AND DOUGLAS FIR PUREE
Bavarois of lychee and mango,
blackcurrant sorbet,
Blackcurrant and green peppercorn jelly
PARSNIP CEREAL
NITRO-SCRAMBLED EGG AND BACON ICE CREAM
Pain perdu, tea jelly (2006)
Selection of wines by the glass to accompany this menu,
Available per person at £90, £145 or £295 (min. two people)
This menu is designed to be enjoyed by the whole table
An optional 12.5 per cent service charge will be added to your bill.

I have highlighted the prices - and they are apparently the prices per person and not in fact a printing error.

I'm not sure what sounds worse though I think maybe the snail porridge just edges it. I think I could probably manage the bavarois of lychee and mango - but that is about it I am afraid. Yes, I have found out just how totally unadventurous I am when it comes to food, but what can you expect of someone who never had spaghetti bolognaise until she was 18?

However, just to prove that our Heston is not a totally pretentious prat I bring you his how to make egg and chips. It is very concise isn't it? Just the 1,450 words on the subject. He helpfully conceeds at one point in the instructions that pricking each individual chip 25 times might be a bit irksome, but no doubt it will be worthwhile in the end.

Umm, Earth to Heston Blumenthal?


Me and Reidski had a very nice Chinese meal last night by the way. Crispy Duck rather than Fat Duck for me everytime.

Reidski's new place

is starting to look good. It would have been nice if the previous occupant had cleaned the place once or twice in the previous twelve months, but it is amazing what can be achieved with a bottle of domestos and a supply of J Cloths. There has been no second appearance by the mouse referred to here either which is nice.

An aside - I used to live in a hotel which was overrun by mice. I remember a very strange smell one morning when I was making toast being explained by the charred remains that subsequently popped up alongside the toast. Most unpleasant. Also, one Easter I was back from university and some noise woke me up in the middle of the night.I knew it was a mouse but couldn't see it so fell back to sleep with the light on. The noise woke me up again - even louder this time. I got out of bed and had another search but still couldn't see it. I sat back on my bed and looked to my bedside table to see what time it was according to my alarm clock...and there, behind my Terry's Chocolate Orange - MY EASTER CHOCOLATE - sat a mouse looking up at me, with chocolate on its whiskers, and far too heavy with all the chocolate it had eaten to even think about moving. I knew when I was beaten and went to find another bedroom (an advantage of living in a hotel).

Back to Reidski's sans mice, and we had a lovely 24 hours together before my trip to Essex. He now has a garden - cunningly disguised at the moment as a jungle, but we like a challenge.

Unfortunately work commitments prevented him accompanying me on my exciting shopping trip down Oxford Street. He missed out on advising me on the very important purchase which was the entire reason I needed to go out shopping, so I am hoping against hope the protractor I bought will do what it says on the packet.

The plan for Saturday

as arranged by two of my friends for who such trivial matters as the FA Cup Final do not register was for those of us who were in Lapland for New Year to cast ourselves into the fog of this Antony Gormley exhibition at 2.00 in the afternoon. In the event the fact that we all had a collective case of foggy head syndrome on Saturday without the need of a luminous glass room filled with dense mist caused cancellation of said plan...thank god! Which meant we did not miss watching the first Cup Final at the All New and Improved Wembley on the tele.(Wot? No rivers of urine flowing down the steps?)

The previous evening when my head was relatively clear for possibly as long as an hour and a half was so good.We were all pretty nervous and didn't know what to expect from Mr Steel. It is not - at least it is not in our collective experience - every day one has a private audience with a (relatively Moo and Brom!) well known comic and historian in your best mate's basement. We were cheered a little to learn that he would be cycling up to Loughton from the test match at Lords as that didn't seem too 'I'm right up my own arse' ish. We were concerned to later learn his agent had told him he was supposed to be in Leyton (about 10 miles away from where we actually were) but he found his way to us eventually. And yes, he did have a shower on arrival.

Anyway, he talked to us about history and how school and certain historians manage to make it so boring what with its hang up on the subject of dates. As he said, what is it with 1066? He imagined that even in 1072 they would have had trouble remembering in what year the Battle of Hastings had taken place..."No, it can't be 6 years already. But hang on, if Cedric had leprosy in 1067, then yes, I suppose it must have been '66?"

He told us the story of the French Revolution with no boring bits at all and if anyone is interested in reading his book on the subject it is this one here, and bits I read subsequently in the book he left us are hilarious, as well as being completely true. He also took any mutterings about how we "Should have gone for Eddie Izzard" very well, and managed to be polite when someone told him how much he admired Bono and Ben Elton, at least until he realised we knew very well he had had both of them consigned to Room 101. He stayed with us till gone midnight when we had expected he would want to clear off as soon as he had done his bit, he went out of his way to help my son who is studying the Russian Revolution, and even if he is what Reidski described as a 'Trot cunt' he was great company. Though fuck knows what he made of us.

Today

I got a bouquet of flowers from someone I have never met and who I am never likely to meet because she lives in Australia.

She e-mailed me. Many years ago she gave up a son for adoption. Now aged 70 and afraid if she didn't try to find him it would soon be too late, she really wanted to know something - anything - about him. Because of what I do for a living I was able to find out what his adopted name was. I wrote to 6 people around the country who shared that name and I found the person she was seeking. Yesterday he rang his birth mother and they talked for two hours.

She is really happy. He is really happy. And I have a wonderful job.

In which I rub shoulders with famous journalists.

Well of course I am very well used to having nights out with a witty and educated man so why am so nervous about Friday. Just because this guy I am seeing then has been on the radio, and the tele, and writes for newspapers and magazines, and publishes his own books....I'm going to stop there as I am feeling inadequate enough already.

So how come this football loving social worker from a nondescript town in the Midlands is spending an evening with Mr Steel?

Obvious really - money has changed hands.

Rewind through my life to New Year when my very good and very wealthy friend took 13 of us to Lapland for a very incredible four days. The rest of us had no idea how to thank her, what with her being the kind of person who has everything already. When I say 'the rest of us had no idea', I should say all but one of us had no idea as another friend had a very good idea. We would get Mr Steel round to her house for the evening - and even better... the rest of us would be fairly confident of getting invited along too. Just one problem - we had to win this auction See Lot Number 22.

And much as I would love to be able to tell you I paid a fair share of the total winning bid I did not. The vast majority of it came from the person who had the idea in the first place. I was not the only one who nearly died when I saw how much this bid had cost, but thankfully she had gone into this with clear ideas about how much she could afford to put in, and how much the rest of us could NOT afford.

So Friday night it is all round to A's for a raucous night in with Mr Steel. Weird stuff.


And for those of you who have never heard of the bloke - Brom, Moo and others - he does these lectures.

Compare and contrast

This crime story from Japan with with some of these being discussed on the Radio phone in as I type.For example a bloke arrested for being in possession of an egg with intent to throw."I've got an egg and I'm not afraid to use it."

I've never been arrested, but I was once questioned about a Turkish Delight Chocolate Bar. It was a bit odd. A policeman asked to examine my bar of Turkish Delight. He opened it. He broke into it and sniffed it. Then he gave me it back. It transpired that he had watched me trying to give the thing away and that was 'suspicious'. He obviously thought there were drugs contained within my bar of Turkish Delight. The truth was much less interesting. I did not like Turkish Delight. I did not want the Turkish Delight. My friend who I offered it to did not like Turkish Delight either. And no bugger wanted it once the policeman's paws had been all over it.

What about that story from Japan though? Just an ordinary routine day in the life of a provincial police station when sone kid walks in with his mother's head in a sports bag???? Talk about "You'll never guess what happened to me at work today?"



Talking of guessing....prize for the first person* to correctly guess why I will be having dinner with Mark Steel on Friday night.


* this competition is not open to any person with inside knowledge - that means you Reidski.

Last words on West Ham - possibly.

West Ham would have gone down without Tevez in their side.

For most of the season - if not the past few games during which no one seems to know for sure if he was eligible to play or not- he was ineligible to legally play for them.

We now know the punishment for this infringement of the rules is 5.5 million pounds with no points deduction. It is estimated that relegation will cost Sheffield United £50 million pounds in lost revenue from gate receipts, sponsorship and TV money.

Well done to the Premier League Commission who made the decision not to deduct West Ham points but to fine them the £5.5m. I think they have created a recipe for anarchy. Clearly any side can lie to every other side in the Premiership, field very talented international players, and who cares if those players happen to be ineligible to play because should they get caught out they will just have to pay a fine which is a tiny percentage of what they would lose if they were relegated.

Moving on to really important current affairs

I like to keep abreast (no pun intended) of the difficulties our poor celebrities suffer so I was moved by the front page of More magazine and the very distraught looking Danielle Lloyd alongside the by line 'My week of hell'. Number one in the list of disasters that have befallen our tragic heroine in the week of hell in question is 'Boob Job Trauma.' Well reading that certainly made me feel grateful for my little lot in life.

It must be so tough fighting an unceasing battle ever since being exposed as a racist in Celebrity Big Brother to show the British public that one is a real person with real problems deserving of constant media exposure. I feel so sorry for her.

Important question

Well, it was to the lad aged about 8 on my train back from London last night.

There was a family on this very busy train and I think they had probably been to the Natural History Museum as the two boys were both waving their toy dinosaurs around. Middle Class Dad (with beard) was attempting to engage the enthusiasm of his sons by telling them all about dinosaurs.

Middle Class Dad: "Dinosaurs laid eggs."

Son aged about 8: "What were their bums like?"

Middle Class Dad ignoring pertinent question from his off spring:"Not all dinosaurs were meat eaters."

Son aged about 8: "What were their bums like?"

Middle Class Dad still attempting to ignore pertinent question from his off spring: "Crocodiles are believed to be the closest living animals to the dinosaurs."

Son aged about 8:"Yes, but WHAT WERE THEIR BUMS LIKE?"

Middle Class Dad now no longer able to ignore the pertinent question from his off spring, or the fact that all the other passengers were creased up laughing by this time: "Quite big I would imagine."




P.S. I was on my way back from visiting Reidski at his new place - yes, he has finally managed to move. What a bloody saga that was. I used to feel some sympathy for estate agents what with them making traffic wardens look popular, but all of that sympathy has evaporated in light of his experiences over the past few weeks. Tossers each and every one of them. (Except for the nice scrupulous ones of course...all two of them.)

A joke

as told by Reidski.

Q. Where will you find a one legged dog?

A. Where you left him.


Talking of dogs, Reidski is at a leaving do tonight. In the speeches the guy who was leaving was described as being unfailing charming to callers, in direct contrast apparently to "That Rottweiler Reidski" who when a caller is being stupid is informed somewhat bluntly by Reidski that he/she is indeed being extremely stupid.

I find that so hard to believe! I prefer to think he politely suggests they may be 'mistaken in their assumptions.'

Most mysterious.

Ten Years After

So it seems that Tony will announce the timetable for his departure later today.

Is it really ten years ago that I got to snog him?

I notice looking back on that episode that the date was 1st April. I was a naive fool.

Teenagers

Can't live with 'em and - erhh - can't live with 'em at times like these.

I seem to have suffered more than my fair share of teenage angst this past week or so.

My current situation is thus - Son No.1 is doing AS levels. He is not working hard enough. He has had to work till late into several nights in a row to finish course work which was due in on Monday and with which he was miles behind. The late nights have done nothing for his good humour which has been on leave of absence.

Then there is the small matter of his exams which start Mid May, which by unhappy coincidence is the exact same time that Son No.2 commences his GSCE exams. And there's another coincidence. Son No.2 isn't working hard enough either. No matter how hard I nag it seems to make no difference whatsoever with either of them. I start to dread August (results month) already.

To add to the woes of Son No. 1, he rings me up at work this afternoon to inform me that "WE have a problem." What this turns out to mean is that HE has just had a bad driving lesson and with his test booked for next Wednesday, which he is most insistent he will not cancel, that is not good either. Of course, this is all the fault of his instructor, or in the alternative version it is my fault, and nothing at all to do with his inability today to reverse round a corner without driving up the kerb. I got back from the gym where I went straight from work thinking "Thank god I have an hour before he gets in from his job at the chip shop before the aggro starts" but no such respite. In fact he was standing waiting for me at the back door. It turned out so bad was his mood he got his mate to cover him at work because he would have turned the chip fat sour, not to mention frightened all the customers away. Cue long 'discussion' by which I obviously mean 'blazing row' about the meaning of maturity/responsibilities, and his urgent need to 'bloody well grow up'. Even as I sit here I am painfully aware just exactly how ineffective that all was.

Worst of all though comes from an unexpected direction - My Beloved and Can Do No Wrong Daughter. She is beside herself with anxiety about three year old Maddy who as we all know is missing in Portugal. She is entirely incapable of putting it out of her mind, is asking unanswerable questions, and keeps dissolving into floods of tears. She keeps asking me what we can do about it. All I can manage is to say we both need to keep hoping for the best and to try and reassure her how rare such events really are. But as she said to me, that is no consolation to Maddy and her family is it?

By the way

What is that nasty taste in my mouth?

Oh! Tis the thought that West Ham will avoid relegation after getting away with playing unregistered players.

Here's another sour thought. How long exactly will Sam Alladyce be spending with his family?

And another - Leeds get away with having their 10 point reduction this season rather than next.



On a more positive note. Like him or loathe him, Alex Ferguson is a truly incredible manager. The way he has yet again built a championship winning side is amazing, and the way they have won it this time with such beautiful attacking football has been a pleasure to watch.

No rose coloured glasses here.

At least I don't think so.


But most importantly the mighty Cobblers finished a quite respectable 14th in League One.Play-offs next season??? (Stranger things have happened!)

Stress

As he mentions here Reidski has still not managed to move. As I said a few days ago we had begun to wonder if the landlord of the place he had signed up for actually wanted a tenant or not due to the extent of messing around he was putting Reidski through. Well, who cares now whether he did or did not want a tenant because he is no longer going to have Reidski as his tenant. Another place has been found and he should have moved into it yesterday - but...the aggro continues and this time it would be the fault of the estate agent who arranged at about 4.00pm on Saturday for him to go into his office first thing yesterday and get the keys. The fact that he would not actually be working yesterday escaped him, as did the necessity to tell one of his colleagues who was working yesterday what the score was. And we in the public sector are always being told we need to imitate the private sector!!???!!! I'd get sacked if I treated my clients with such disregard. Funnily enough given our respective personalities, he is quite sanguine about all this aggro - and I am raging. Maybe today - maybe.....

Still, it did mean that yet again I had to 'suffer' a nice day out in London rather than help him move. I guess I should count my blessings, but really, I worry that without me to check he will leave half his possesions behind in the hopefully soon to be old flat. We women have difficulty accepting men are actually quite capable of doing things perfectly well by themselves. Or maybe we just need to feel needed?

A piece of good fortune

Early last week my daughter asked me if we could go for a meal at the weekend - just the two of us. I thought that was really sweet and agreed that we could. She seemed to be excited about it. She kept asking me things like 'What was I going to wear?'and asking me if I was excited about our night out. Correct answer - "Of course I am darling!"

Anyway, on the day itself she couldn't make up her mind which, out of a fairly large selection of Italian restaurants, she would most like to go to. This was a discussion which went on over what felt like many hours but eventually a decision was reached. She and I would go to our local 'Ask'.

On our way into town we passed a park where there was a circus. H asked me if she had ever been to a circus. I said that she had but she was very little - 2 or 3 at the most. She thought she vaguely remembered.

We were early - it was only about quarter to 7 when we got to Ask but it was very busy. I was just saying to H that maybe we would have to go somewhere else, but the manager said they had a table for us and sat us down. I said to H that most of the people there were probably eating before they went to the theatre and that it would soon empty out a bit. Then the couple we were sitting next to us asked us if we were going to the theatre. I said we weren't and then they asked us if we would like to go. I was completely thrown by the question.

For one thing I didn't even know what was on. For another I think my initial thought was that they wanted to sell their tickets and I was mentally working out how I could most politely decline, but that wasn't it at all. It quickly transpired that in fact she had some complimentary tickets and was offering H and I them. The only problem being as they told us, was that the show started at 7.30.

NEVER has a meal in a restaurant been consumed at such speed. After looking forward to it so much H was unable to get out the place fast enough. But it has to be said that we saw the kind of show for which the term 'jaw dropping' was invented. And strangely in light of our conversation had whilst passing the park on the way into town - we saw a circus. And totally amazing it was too.

I had a lovely night out with my beautiful thirteen year old daughter.

A dilemma avoided

Thanks to this result tonight from Milan.

My middle son is a Liverpool fan. We had our most intense bonding session ever watching the
the 2005 Final. We sat holding hands for most of that amazing come back afraid to let go of each other in case that broke the spell and brought doom to Liverpool. Breast feeding had nothing on that!

I feared he would never speak to me again if I cheered for United against them in another Champions League Final. I would have tried not to but things have a habit of going wrong for me in such situations. ('Come on Luton' springs unwanted to my mind.)

So anyway, no worries now following that lack lustre performance from United.

COME ON LIVERPOOL!

Stressful house moving day

Reidski was moving yesterday. He is going from a fully furnished place to a place described as 'partially furnished' which turned out to mean that it contained four pieces of furniture - three of which have got to go. The wardrobe in particular was so knackered and hideous that the question arose as to whether the landlord actually wanted anyone to rent the place. The mountain of junk mail just inside the door did indeed tend to suggest that people had not been queuing up. However, in many ways the flat will be ideal for Reidski on a long term basis and following negotiations - eg ditch the vile furnmiture, paint the place, and replace the carpets - the deal was done. I went down to help him move, armed with bleach, oven cleaner and Cillit Bang.

Only snag was, as he told me as soon as I arrived on Monday evening- he wasn't moving yesterday. The carpets weren't done yet. So that was devastating. I was denied a day's heavy duty moving all his worldly goods and cleaning. Instead I was forced to spend a day in very sunny Greenwich, and to endure a pub lunch sitting outside this pub by the river (Spunky's local as I happen to know. Where were you yesterday lunchtime Spunks?.) It was hell.

The day wasn't all wasted though - I did assist him with the purchase of a cheese grater.

Look where I will be going next season

But I am a little worried Elland Road won't fit in the hordes of Cobbler fans who simply can not wait to play Leeds United :-)

Now all I need for my football season to be complete is for there to be some justice for West Ham by which I mean relegation. All Quiet in the East Stand says everything I would want to say on this subject...see post headed Cheats not Hammered.

(And Man U for the Premiership, FA Cup and European Cup wouldn't go down too badly either - sorry Steve!)

P.S. On West Ham another excellent article for anyone as incensed as I am by the decision made regarding the 'irregularities' surrounding that club.

Previously unthought of problem identified

I am listening to a phone in on the radio about the new legislation extending basic civil rights to gays. Not too controversial in 2007 you wouldn't have thought (unless you happen to be a religious bigot I suppose).

So this gym owner from Stratford rings up with a problem that the new legislation apparently presents him with. If he has to allow gay men into his gym where will they get changed? Has the government considered the embarrassment this will cause to the big macho men who use his gym when they have to get naked in front of lecherous gays? He didn't mention the difficulties we straight women would face striping off in front of lesbian women but obviously that adds a further dimension to this problem. He seriously suggested that he might be forced to install additional changing rooms...hetro men, homo men, hetro women, homo women. What about those amongst us who are a bit both ways though? Imagine the dilemma they would face when given a choice of changing rooms.

The idea that anyone sane would not have given this a second thought would not of course occur to this idiot. Nor I suppose would the idea that just possibly some of his clients are already (whisper it quietly) 'gay'. But thinking about it I actually hope none of his clients are gay because he doesn't deserve a penny of their money. And now that he has given his name on nationwide radio I also hope that all his current clients cancel their memberships forthwith because he doesn't deserve a penny of anyone's cash full stop.

Retirement

It is very rare, as I have mentioned before here for a Cobblers season to end without everything resting on the very last games. As a general rule we are either up for promotion or fighting relegation. This season we did flirt with relegation but thankfully achieved the points necessary to avoid it before the very last games. So Friday night which was our last home game of the season would have been a bit of a non-event were it not for the retirement of former Aston Villa legend Ian Taylor.

Ian has played for us for the past two seasons. He will be 39 on 4th June. He plays for the sheer love of the game, has been a fantastic influence on the younger players (that would, thinking about it, mean ALL the other players), and is unfailing friendly and chatty with supporters. He had a late start in professional football having a proper job first and playing non-league football until he went to Port Vale aged 24. Maybe that was why he appreciated it all so much.

There were loads of Villa fans at our match on Friday to say goodbye to him who we were all really pleased to see there(poor sods - it was an awful match!). He was substituted after about an hour and the standing ovation he got from Huddersfield fans as well as home ones brought a tear to many an eye. Taylor responded by thanking all four corners of the stadium and threw his boots over his shoulder as he left the pitch. "There's only one Ian Taylor," was the song from the stands.

Thanks Ian. Great professional. Even better bloke. It has been emotional.

Up early this morning.

I really didn't want to be up early. I had a rubbish night's sleep which was probably partly my own fault. Yesterday I went to a bbq and started drinking at 2.30. Seven hours later I staggered back down the road - (I put the staggering down to the fact that I had new shoes on - shoes with a high wedge and I couldn't walk in them on the way TO the bbq so it could not be expected that I could walk back on them either minus stagger, although just possibly drinking wine for seven hours didn't help.)- and went straight to sleep. I never seem to sleep for long if I have drunk too much and sure enough 3.00 in the morning found me wide awake and thinking about all the things I had to do when I got up:

Sort out walking gear for me and daughter - find ordnance survey map for Peak District and check route for today's walk - make and pack picnic. Ensure sister is up early too so we will be ready to leave by 8.00 at the very latest. Also, on a slightly different tact - where the bloody hell are my 5 missing bras?

Anyway, I get up early and set about the various tasks. I do love hill walking but live in a most inconvenient place for actually doing it as it is at least a two hour drive from here to anywhere boasting something approaching a proper hill. We had decided to take advantage of the fabulous weather promised for the whole weekend.

One of the things I had to do was something I should have done yesterday if I had actually managed to be sober enough to do it, and that was get the washing in off the line. Hummm, why am I freezing cold outside? Never mind - take lots of layers - it is not as if it is raining - we will be fine. And no doubt it will warm up nicely.

I catch something on the radio about 'disappointing weather today'. I check the forecast for Derbyshire. Sod it. Suddenly the prospect of a 9 mile walk and a picnic in the Derbyshire hills looks most unappealing owing to the news that the weather which yesterday was forecast to be predominantly sunny is now expected to be predominantly rain. Which is why I come to be blogging right now instead of being half way to Dovedale.

I could have stayed in bed after all.

That Man at CIA

has emerged again. And yes, McManus is a very bad man indeed, but I still think his classroom picture is hilarious.

Working Class Football Heroes

I am reading this great book about Gary Imlach's father Stewart who played his football in the late 50's/early 60's.After his dad died in 2001 Gary realised how little he had known of the man. I don't suppose he is the only bereaved child who realises that too late, but he embarked on intensive research into his father's career, probably as a way of dealing with his grief. (Sorry, that was the social worker analysis coming out in me.)

Some bits leap out of the page at you. For example, in 1955 when Stewart Imlach was playing for Derby County the maximum wage for footballers was £15 a week. How would John Terry for whom £121,000 a week is an insult, cope with that? They got a £2.00 bonus for a win and £1.00 for a draw...the same rate as had been payable since 1920.

In 1958 Scotland were in the World Cup Finals in Sweden and Stewart played in the first game but injury kept him out the second two. There was n't a fourth match for Scotland for the usual reasons when it comes to Scotland's World Cup exploits (sorry dearest- couldn't resist that.)

The Scottish public were fully informed about Paraguay, their opponents in the second match, by the football writer for the Daily Record , Willie Gallagher who wrote under the by-line 'Waverley - The Name That Means Football'.

The following are genuine extracts from his reports made after visits to the Paraguay training camp:

"I expected some of their men to be coloured but they are all white, although bearing in mind what I saw in a reservation camp in British Columbia a few years back, I would say some of our opponents are of Indian ancestry....

They are unaccustomed to social life as we know it....

They are beef eaters and scorn fish. They have never heard of such a person as a vegetarian....

They use no knives and forks, employing their fingers and their adroitness, I am told, has to be seen to be believed. They can toss a handful of mashed carrot between their wide open lips with an accuracy of action that is almost mathematical in its precision....

There are many signs that they are ignorant of life outside their own country (unlike this worldly wise correspondent- ed), but with them, ignorance is bliss."

It was unfortunate that Waverley didn't see fit to discuss their prowess of the footballing pitch however because they went on to beat a totally unprepared Scotland 3-2.

A wonderful heartfelt book and thoroughly recommended reading - especially to you John Terry.

OK

Realise I am in danger of being the bore who goes on at such length about her holiday that people cross the road in front of double decker buses in order to avoid me so I promise this will positively be the last time I go on about last week.

But as an aside - what a great match I have just watched - Man Utd v A.C.Milan.

We met up with Messalina on Wednesday evening who was looking gorgeous....being in love suits her! After sharing a bottle of wine me and Reidski headed off to see Camera Obscura at Koko in Camden. Great band, great gig - except for some annoying twats at the back who mistakenly thought we were paying good money to listen to them talking very loudly amongst themselves rather than to hear the band.

Thursday we took the boat up the Thames from Greenwich to Westminster which is a wonderful way to see a truly stunning capital city. Later we met Marc and Deana who were over from Chicago and who we would never have met were it not for blogging..even though neither of them do actually blog - far too sensible! We first met them last year, and that was a brilliant night out but this was even better. We ended up in China Town with me providing a live demonstration of just exactly how inept I am with chopsticks. Deana and I share a theory that Marc and Reidski were separated at birth being so precisely on the exact same wave length. Thank you both for a really memorable night.

And I guess that pretty much wraps up my 'What I Did On My Holidays' essay, apart from the not unimportant matter of finding Reidksi somewhere new to live as from next week. He will be living on the site of what was Millwall's old ground, the original Den. I am sure that was the major factor in his decision to take the place.

One final comment. It seemed that where ever we went last week (OK - except for Kent) the London marathon runners were expected along there a few days later. Bloody hell fire - it really did bring it home to me just how flaming far a marathon is...and yes, before anyone says it I know - 26.2 miles.

Holiday - Day 2.

In which we try and after a previously unsuccessful attempt finally succeed in getting to Kew Gardens. And very beautiful it was in the spring sunshine too although we nearly didn't get there. We only had the one drink here first in Richmond so I don't think that was the reason why we were merrily strolling along the river bank for quite some distance before it occurred to Reidski that we were in fact walking west not east and that therefore it could take a round the world walk before we did actually reach Kew.

We turned round, and did make Kew Gardens this year as opposed to sometime in 2010. Lots more bluebells but I have done 'Bluebell pic' and so I give you - 'Lily Pond at Kew Gardens' minus any lilies, but if you have a magnifying glass you might spot sexed up ducks flirting outrageously on the waters edge.




Now, it is a strange but true fact that Reidski and I have never had an argument. We get on really well and are tolerant of each others foibles/faults (not that I have any of those of course). The no argument bit was at least true up until the Tuesday night when we entered the realms of The Pub Quiz.....

dur dur dur dur....dur dur dur dur.....


Question 3 (out of 30) and I didn't catch what he said (Language difficulty doncha know?) "Sorry darling?" says I. "Oh YOU DO IT!!!" says he throwing pen at me. Strop number 1 duly noted.


Question 14 and the question is something about a new airline starting up in the 80's. I had not a clue but said "Virgin?" with a question mark attached. "British Midlands" declares he with an air of certainty. Now I of course dislike conflict in all its ugly forms but I didn't think British Midlands was right. I mildly suggest to my beloved Scottish person it doesn't 'ring a bell' at which point he grabs the pen and scrawls "VIRGIN" in capitals because "I am SO clever" even though I didn't think Virgin was right for a minute. In which certainty, I was right yet again. But it wasn't British Midlands either. Strop number 2 duly recorded!*

Things got a little tense for a while there but thankfully owing to the intellectually challenged efforts of our competitors we finished up third and won a bottle of Chianti so were both able to acknowledge how brilliant the other was as opposed to what an idiot the other was and our harmonious relationship was restored. He didn't even seem to mind too much when I relentlessly took the piss out of him for the rest of the week on account of The Two Strops which he swears blind were a figment of my imagination!



* The advantages of getting in one's side of the story first can not be under estimated!

Somewhat optimistically

in view of the amount of time spent in Richer Sounds we got in the car and headed for the coast, what with it being such a beautiful sunny day. One hour later we are no where near the coast and are very hungry. I consult the bible and we take a detour to this perfect pub in this perfect setting.

The perfect lunch followed.

John Major would have wet himself...church by village green for little old ladies to cycle to, a cricket pitch on the green and warm real ale served at the pub. It was so perfect we suspected it could have been 'Merrie England' at Epcot.

We never made it to the coast. Instead we had a walk from the village and just to add to the general atmosphere of perfection, the bluebells were all out in the woods.



Here endeth the Tourist Information Advertisement for West Peckham, Kent.

No -

the hour spent in this shop (there is a picture of the silent shop assistant there) was not the highlight of the week. Honestly!

More to follow but having wasted the best part of the last two hours reading text reports on Celtic I had better go and do the ironing/ do the garden/ dust the house/ clean the car/ cook dinner/ collapse in a heap.

I find myself

glued to the BBC's live text of the Kilamrnock - Celtic game. 1-1 after 73 minutes. Come on Celtic (sorry Jim). My life has definitely changed since I met Reidksi. I doubt I would previously have spent Sunday afternoon in this way.

This past week has been great. Perfect weather so a grand total of zero museums were visited in spite of good intentions to get us some culture. We did try the Tate Modern with the intention that I get to see the giant slides.Only that exhibition as we discovered when we arrived closed last Sunday. This is a picture of what I didn't get to ride on.So sod culture - let's get pissed.

Which we did a bit quite a lot.

But we did lots of other stuff too. Like on Monday morning spend about an hour in a stereo shop whilst 'something' was happening regarding Reidksi's knackered CD player and record deck. The store had had them in for repairs for at least 6 weeks, and said we should go in to be offered replacements, but when we got there it was all very confusing as the guy dealing with it got stuck into lots of paper work and lots of entering things on to the computer, but what he didn't do was tell us word one about what was going on. We hung about like a pair of lemons, and eventually we were placing bets with each other about exactly how long we could stay there without knowing what on earth was going on. And he took forever......but at the end of forever Reidski had a brand new replacement CD player and a brand new replacement record deck so I guess that counts as a result...rather better than the result Celtic look like they are currently headed for.



YES!!!!! Celtic just scored. 90th minute!!!! Shunsuke Nakamura free kick. Am so happy. Championship won...again.

Live blogging for you.

Post script:

And to cap off a rather good day for Nakamura he wins Player of the Season later on.

An awkward social moment

My team and I have 'history' with a certain referee called Phil Crossley. He was the official responsible for the massive injustice referred to here, and to others as recently as two weeks ago when he lost control of our match against Scunthorpe. The man is an incompetent idiot who 'obviously'* has it in for my team.

So there I was at London Bridge station with Reidksi when we are spotted by one of his mates. He comes over and for some reason it gets mentioned to him that I am a Cobblers season ticket holder. Well, as a conversation stopper it usually works. Anyway, this guy says "Oh, my best mate was up there the other week reffing.....

Phil Crossley."

I really did not know what to say.

He assures me he is "A Top Bloke".

He may well be ...but he is a fucking useless referee!

* Reidski says he hasn't, but that we all make mistakes sometimes. How reasonable is that - ARGGHH!!!

Billy Connolly At Michael Parkinson With Tom Cruise.Part 2

Billy Connolly At Michael Parkinson With Tom Cruise Part 1

Something to hopefully make you laugh.

I am so looking forward to next week*

I am going to stay with Reidski.

One of teh things I am really looking forward to is meeting up with Marc who comments here from time to time, and is over from Chicago. We met him and his wife this time last year and had such a great time I've been looking forward to this for a year. Reidski will be taking them 'Down the Den' tomorrow (Poor sods have to go and watch Millwall - do they know what they are in for?) but I won't be there as I have an invite to 'a bit of a do' from my friend who is married to a multi millionaire.

As an aside - her guests- and I believe there will be a dozen of us - are asked to bring the food. Now I would never go to anyone's house without at the very least a bottle of wine, and as a general rule if asked to provide food when I go to a mate's house would be perfectly happy so to do. But I draw your attention back to the end of the previous paragraph - although maybe that is how one gets to be a multi millionaire by hosting evenings for your less financially advantaged mates on the cheap.

Back to next week, and apart from plans to see Camera Obscura in Camden on the Wednesday we have a week when we can pretty much please ourselves what we do and when. A real treat when you are a parent of teenagers, although mine are in the middle of composing a rather lengthy list of things they would like me to look out for for them whilst I am in London.

Talking of things for the kids - please pray for me that a K reg Metro gets through its forthcoming MOT as if it does I have first refusal on it for eldest son. It has only done 45,000 miles and they will only want £300 for it if it gets through. Eldest knows nothing about this though. I daren't mention it until I know or will not get a moment's peace on the subject.

This is turning into an unfocused waffle so I will quit before I fall even further behind.

Hope we do at least find time to return to this lovely part of the walk described below....so beautiful!







* Eeek! Just realised I used a 'teenage-ism' without even realising it. "I am SO looking forward!!???" Apologies to all speakers of English at it should be spoken.

A traffic halting incident

No, not this one - though what the fuck was all that about at 1.00 in the bloody afternoon?

Last night my sister and I went over to a lovely town near us called Oundle to meet two of our friends. It is a busy road there, and unusually my sister was driving. G has a driving phobia which makes it really hard for her to drive on dual carriageways - let alone a motorway as previoulsy mentioned here. She has been driving for over 20 years, but in the past 2 years has actually been having driving lessons to try and help her get over the fear - it has helped a bit but I think hypnosis will be the only thing to ever get her driving on a motorway. But it was good that she did do the driving yesterday - she is getting there.

All was going well. G even managed to overtake a lorry once on the dual carriageway, but then the road became a single carriageway again and there was a lot of traffic. We were nearly there but then we saw one of these....




It was a baby one.

And it was right in the middle of the road, practically sitting on the white line.

And it was in grave danger.

We drove past.

We fretted about the rabbit.

We turned round.

G returned to the spot where the rabbit still hovered precariously in the middle of the very busy road,stopped her car, and to my acute embarrassment, strode purposefully out into the busy road and held her hand up police woman style to stop on coming traffic, whilst I was directed to chase the rabbit off the road.

We did get hooted at but I think it was more with laughter than with anger from the delayed drivers.

And to tell the truth, I was proud of my daft but compassionate sister.

Who, in season 2006/2007

beat table topping Scunthorpe United to bring to an end their 19 match unbeaten run?



WE DID! WE DID! WE DID! WE DID! WE DID! WE DID! WE DID! WE DID! WE DID! WE DID! WE DID!

And to make it all the sweeter we got the winner in a game we dominated in the 94th minute.

We thoroughly deserved the win too as we were brilliant. Best match I have been to for - like - ever, and I went completely mad, hugging everyone in reach (my son and other women only Reidski!) when we got the winner with what was the last kick of the match - they didn't even have time to kick off again.


What with that and beating Orient on Saturday (which Reidski could tell you was not what you could call a classic match) we have had 6 points for Easter which beats a chocolate egg every time and even I - the eternal pessimist when it comes to my team - can accept we are safe from relegation.


And Leeds lost too....what a great day this has been!

The romance of the riverbank

Reidski has been in Scotland this past week so when I went to his on Friday we hadn't seen each other for a week...too long!

Anyway, when we finally managed to get out of his flat (so much to talk about and stuff ;-) )what could be nicer in the lovely bank holiday sunshine than a walk by the beautiful river Thames? We decided to head up Greenwich way.

Oh, lovely historic Greenwich. What wonderful riverside vistas awaited us! How delightful it would be.....

umm, if you are particularly fond of the sight of a sugar refinery:






Or you are a fan of modern art:







Or someone who is enthralled by the natural world:









There has been so much development along the Thames in the past 20 or so years. I think it was quite nice that we managed to walk for an hour along the one part that has completely escaped a make over - if you don't count the part played by graffiti 'artists' ( I use that term in the loosest possible sense), and anyway, some of the way the litter had been arranged by the wind in the various shrubs (mainly buddleia which will grow any old where) did have a kind of arty look all of its own.

Oh and the scent! What a memorable scent was given off by the sugar refinery. Although for scent read stink.


A well deserved drink here made the walk well worth while. And what was quite amazing was the thought that not so very many years ago, miles and miles of the riverside in London were in just the same state of dereliction and neglect as the part we walked along on Friday. Now most of it is built up with luxury apartments. Well, at least where we walked is still accessible to the likes of us!

I remember

ages ago reading some comments by a woman on various blogs and idly clicking on to her site. I was greeted by an amazing rant around the subject of how rude other bloggers were to her. I made a mental note not to vist again having filed her under the heading of 'Nuts.'

Anyway, I just went over to Alan's place and saw that he was celebrating, the reasons for his pleasure being explained by his link to Rachel in North London, and well....what can anyone say? It must have been absolute hell dealing with all that madness.

Sympathy to anyone unfortunate enough to have been targetted by this lunatic.

This week's football post intends to be positive

After the misery of England last week it was with high hopes I went to the Cobblers on Saturday. We were playing Brighton...easy three points surely?

High hopes soon took a knock due to high winds.

We kind of knew we weren't going to witness a feast of footballing skill when it took the Brighton keeper 3 minutes to take his first goal kick. He placed the ball - the wind moved it - he placed it - the wind moved it (repeat many many times). When he finally did kick the thing it acted like a boomerang and came straight back at him. Anyway, we did not take advantage of the conditions but Brighton did and they won 2-0. Every attempted pass went astray when the wind got hold of the ball. It was with out doubt our worst performance of the season which is saying quite a lot. BUT as promised I AM going to make this a positive footballing post.

Yes, I really can be positive - and about my own team at that. (I obviously am optimistic enough to be sectioned.)


But we, or strictly speaking , our captain, did win something and not just any old thing either. You won't have heard of it because football news is dominated by the exploits of West Ham players taking the piss out of every fan who has ever contributed towards their over inflated salaries. He won Sportsman of the Season for his action when a Millwall player appeared to be seriously injured at Sixfields back in December. Alarmed players waved over the medical staff. This was embarrassingly slow for a potentially serious injury, therefore Chris Doig gratefully helped out by racing 80 yards to grab a spine board - receiving an ovation from both Lions and Cobblers fans. He was nominated for the award by Millwall supporters, and I for one am very proud of him.


Cue opportunity to publish picture of very nice looking young chap.....

Exhausted.

"Promoted again! So soon after the last time! Gosh! That is a big salary you have got there! Tremendous!"

"So, no only did your son take so naturally to playing the guitar, but he has also turned out to be an incredibly talented song writer and his group easily won Battle of the Bands, plus all the girls are fighting to go out with him! Excellent!"

"Oh, so that son of yours is incredibly motivated at school and revising really hard for his GSCE's..French verbs stuck all over the kitchen!!! Marvellous."

"Well, fancy that! Your daughter aged 11 has only been playing badminton for ten months and is already playing for the county! Super!"

"Oh I see! Their school will only take them on the very most educational trips and yes, I can quite see that they would be missing out if you did not pay for both your children to do the China trip. Brilliant!"

"Blimey! The value of your house has risen AGAIN! Oh, and so have the three flats you bought to rent in London! Wonderful!"

"Cuba this summer! All inclusive package! Yes, the hotel does look fabulous! Wow!"

"Well, I am not quite sure." (When asked if I thought my incredibly smug friends I have spent too much of the past weekend with should go for a BMW this time or an Audi it being all of twelve months since they last changed their car).


I am completely drained and have run out of words to adequately express how impressed I am by their remarkably charmed life.



My one consolation in listening to this interminable success story is that Mrs Smug has a very fat arse.