Happy Birthday to my brilliantly bonkers beauty of a bab today.
Long may your weird light shine so the other weirdos can find you.
We love you way more than all the way to the door .
Just been busted jumping about in the kitchen, arms aloft to some Die Antwoord while I was meant to be planning lessons.
Think eldest now has the fear of ‘out of control mum’ for Boomtown Fair in August, when these South African crazies take top billing on the Saturday night.
It’s going to be wild.
Childerbeast may need to have me on some of those toddler reigns while I bounce up and down like a loon and they stand looking cool and aloof, drinking kale and chia smoothies, excusing me to passers by with, “She doesn’t get out much”.
Found the cat taking great interest in the two man bobsleigh today. He had his feet up against the TV stand, transfixed and trying to look behind the TV every time the sleigh went round a corner.
This prompted a conversation about cats taking part in Olympic sports.
And this most excellent of Photoshop effort from youngest Childerbeast.
The end of half term is upon us and not only is it the dreaded ‘back to work eve’ (aka Sunday) 😟 but it’s ‘back to work after a week off’ eve 😵
Bman is at work. Youngest is at her pal’s and going to a gig no less this evening. (Check your exits, stay near your pal’s dad, no booze, no drugs, text me when you get back to your pal’s). Meanwhile the eldest and I are embracing the Year of the Dog by having a Chinese take-out later.
I might treat myself before that and do the ironing with a glass of the lovely bison grass vodka my mate brought me back from Poland.
Half term is almost over and I have achieved very little other than winning at being a lazy bastard and waiting for my chin to heal up, while I googled things like – “Can you damage your brain by banging your chin?”. (Yes, apparently you can).
We did have pancake day, which was a success mainly because Bman was home to be a top tosser. Allie’s friend slept over and was also party to the pancake tea. The next day was Valentines Day. There was no romantic meal out, or sex of any kind, but I did get lots of flowers and a shower curtain (don’t ask). Also a decent cooked tea and I got Bman a bottle of good gin, which is of course a gift designed for the two of us.
We went out en famille for Allie’s early birthday tea on Thursday to Pieminister. Her choice. Not mine, although of course I was delighted at this choice. I almost went for the double-pied ‘Tower of Power’ but thought it could be a pie too far in one sitting, so opted for a Mothership instead.
On Friday me and the Childerbeast did venture to Manc to have lunch with my bro and sis and the niecelings. Good job it was payday as the offspring stiffed me for jackets, boots and other miscellaneous crap in Primark and Lush. I only went in to get some work clothes, but didn’t get anything for myself other than a bra. In fairness it was a good purchase for a fiver. Harnesses the old lills rather nicely indeed. Crackin’ in fact.
I did manage to get myself a new swimsuit and rash vest for my upcoming new venture – teaching swimming after school two evenings a week. Yaaas! Getting paid for being in the water. Nice.
Channelling the old skool raver look here, albeit in lycra a couple of sizes larger than back in the day.
Today I had plans to get up and crack on with a half term’s worth of planning but have basically spent the day procrastinating. I sorted my wardrobe. Sat in bed and finished my book. Had a snooze, then got sucked into watching ‘The Guns of Navarone’. Now I’m writing this and soon it will be teatime. It’s burger Saturday but I’m flying in the face of convention and having a fish finger butty instead – because that’s how I fucking roll MoFo!
Fuck teaching in any capacity. Where do I sign MoFo?
Ghosthunting season is back up on us. Spent some hours raking about in the basements of Knottingley Town Hall on Friday.
Wasn’t as keen on this one. Even though we did manage to arrive on time this time.
The basement was good but I would have liked more time to wander around it. Wasn’t as interested in the upstairs area, especially the part where two people in the circle seemingly had their hands raised in the air by unseen hands and remained there for 40 (that’s FORTY!) minutes while a man commanded by the power of St Michael, all that is holy and the power of Greyskull, for their hands to be lowered. Linda and I were bored shitless so we broke the circle (“don’t cross the streams”). Rather than be allowed to perhaps go rogue at this point and do a little wandering or piss about on a ouija board, we had to sit /stand in the dark waiting for these sodding hands to be lowered. I was very respectful but inside my head I was screaming “FFS put your bloody arms down you dozy cows”.
So, despite the feeling that someone rather chilly was sat in my lap at one point in the cellar and that someone equally as chilly had walked through me during the stupid human pendulum, duck duck goose circle time – I wasn’t impressed with this one.
Saturday morning I set off to Malton to meet Gill, as the rest of my Fam had gone to Farndale on Friday night while I was arsing about in the dark. We had a most civilised luncheon in Malton and a float around the food fair. I made purchase of some cheese, some pork pies for Bman and treated myself to two bottles of artisan cider brewed in Ryedale.
There were concerns that we may not make it all the way back to the house in the car due to the snow, but by the time we got into Farndale it was clear that most of it had gone. However, there was still a bit of black ice. I discovered that the hard way when I got out of the car with 3 bags. One second I was vertical, the next I was face down on the ground, laid in the mud, bleeding from where my chin broke my fall on a rock and now only in possession of one bottle of artisan cider. The other smashed to smithereens!
It really shook me up, I won’t lie. Thank goodness I’ve got such a Desperate Dan chin to help break my fall. Could have been worse. Could have broken my nose or my cheekbone or lost a tooth and had to spend Saturday night at A&E – probably in Scarborough. Nightmare!
My broken face was a bit of a party killer and I ended up in bed by 10:30pm, so not the usual drunken shenanegins of a weekend in the Dales. But still a good laugh. It’s only a shame that there was no video footage of me stacking it!
The next day, as if I hadn’t hurt myself enough, I was pursuaded by my youngest to have a go at bareback horse riding. Never having been on a horse, but always quite fancied it, I was game. It wasn’t a very big horse. But it felt high to me. I didn’t stay aboard for long before I panicked about falling again so I got off. My youngest was like a natural though. Hopefully she won’t decide to take it up as a hobby. I’ll be forced to steal one of the local piebald ponies that tend to wander freely around the neighbourhood and keep it in the garden.
When we got home I fired up my remaining bottle of artisan cider and it was rank! I threw it down the sink. Gutted! It ended up costing me a fiver after the second one broke.
Its half term now and I am ready for it. Am about to head out to meet a friend for lunch. Hopefully I won’t fall over on the way.
Ciao Ciao Xx
Bman’s birthday weekend was not quite the love-in he may have envisioned when I initially booked Weetwood Hall for a romantic getaway. I came down with some kind of hideous Aussie/bird/porcine/alien (delete as appropriate) flu! I couldn’t make it into work on Friday and stayed in bed sleeping (like a demented person apparently). It was too late to cancel the hotel without paying the full fee so I insisted that we go anyway and at the very least I could die in someone else’s bed and Bman could get his monies worth from the all you can eat buffet breakfast.
It was less ‘Fifty Shades Freed’ and more ‘Only When I Laugh’. They had switched us to a family room which included an extra single bed, so Bman spent the night in that, watching football while I sprawled my virus riddled body over the tiny double bed that both of us probably wouldn’t have fit in together anyway.
Not sure who’s who or who the 3rd dude is?
Not quite the comedy swingathon, overpriced gin and extra person letting themselves in the room adventure that we had last year…But such is life.
Meanwhile. I am just about still alive but am full of snot. It’s horrible. I would not wish it on anybody. On Sunday afternoon I would happily have welcomed the Grim Reaper with open arms. Only feeling marginally better now…but not much.