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Happy Saturday dudes

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​You might want to hang fire on the home renovations y’all. Am pretty sure that the third secret of Fatima is about to come to fruition and we’re all doomed.

certain solar death like that movie Knowing with Nicholas Cage


Windy certain death


Earth shaking certain death


Because if the earth and solar system don’t kill us then the crazy assholes in charge will finish the job.

Kim Jung death

Get prepping MoFos.  Bottled water and tinned peaches all round. Or just spike the apple sauce and prepare to abandon your earthly vehicle.

Meanwhile, I’m going to vac and do the ironing. May as well have a tidy house for the forthcoming apocalypse.

Ciao dudes Xx


Let’s go round again…

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Well it’s almost time to begin a new academic year.

It doesn’t seem that long since last September and the last academic year. But what a year it’s been.  Going in all cylinders blazing last September, ready to take on the system. Lead my new, (albeit smaller) but fabulous little team.  Ready to jump in at a moments notice to impart knowledge and wisdom with a smile and pocket full of amazing lesson plans.

Yeah. That lasted til Spring and then it all went west side.



Me, from March to June in my kitchen


Until recently when I no longer felt like that, I hadn’t really realised how low and off-kilter I actually felt.  Let’s not go there again if we can possibly help it.

My philosophy at this juncture can probably best be summed up by this meme:-


Am I right?


There will always be plenty of people having a shittier day than you, which is crap (for them) but a silver lining on your own grey cloud. That’s as good as it’s probably going to get for most of us – and that’s okay.

So before I return to the coal face and my optimism and enthusiasm die a fiery death wane within weeks, I’d like to celebrate the great things that happened this year and the people who stopped me from totally losing my mind. The ones who sent me notes, hunted for spooks with me for fun; sent me memes, love tokens; not always helpful but somehow amusing texts; sent me jigsaws in the post. And thanks to my husband who, despite his usually unsympathetic nature and poor inference skills, managed to be kind, thoughtful and not get annoyed when I didn’t appear to have moved for hours.  Also my Childerbeast for not freaking out at their mother freaking out.

Naturally I have to summarise in pictorial form because , as my childerbeast told me recently, “Mum, you photograph everything”  Good job really. Then I can look back at images like these, on the days when everything seems pointless, and I’ll remember that it’s not.

In the words of my childerbeast…. “Blessed”.









So back to school tomorrow.  I am going in this year with no expectations. That way I can’t be disappointed or annoyed. I’ll go in. Do my thing. Hope for the best and then come home, sleep, then go back the next day and try again.


Bring it on Booms!  We can do this.


And to end a perfect summer holiday of sun, treating myself to a new vacuum cleaner (small pleasures) visits with friends, festivalling, glitter and music – my parents dropped by today for an impromptu visit.

Good times.


Life (today anyway) is good.  Not always. Not for everyone. But today, it’s alright for me & mine, & that’ll do.

Ciao MoFos



Utopian Shambalanegins 2017

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After a year off, it was time to venture back into the glittery bosom of Shambala Festival last week.  This time my sister and her family were coming along for the ride.

Sequinned clothing      CHECK
Novelty onesies             CHECK
Mary Berry masks         CHECK
Hipflask of tequila        CHECK
Further booze                 CHECK
Glitter & facepaints       CHECK

It’s difficult to put into words an accurate review of the festival. Partly because I am still struggling to form coherent thought processes to be honest.  I could write as much as this on all the things we didn’t get to do. (Sunday supplement cock drawing club etc)


I may have to just resort to pictorial evidence.  

Fortunately there are no photos of me topless with my norks covered in glitter and sequins – essentially because that didn’t happen.  I left that up to the girls 20 years younger than me with a perkier pair.  If I had dared to bare though, I’m pretty sure I would’ve looked like this:-


(in my own head)


My brother-in-law embraced the cross dressing element with a rainbow pride style tutu and still felt underdressed.  


Shiny family goals 


Despite the raging midday heat, together we nailed the Run DMC Vs Shambala flashmob dance-off.  My sister abandoned us half-way through due to thinking she might pee herself with laughter (because it’s like that, and that’s the way it is!)  Not sure what the neicelings made of their daddy and Aunty Tit jumping about and falling on the floor with a bunch of strangers in a field.


 sinking hopeful feeling we may end up in next year’s programme or 2017 highlights reel

My childerbeast are now of an age where I didn’t have to be in bed by midnight. In fact some of the acts they wanted to see weren’t even playing til the wee small hours. I was having to drink coffees in the early evening to keep my head in the game.  


How did my girls get so big?

jade and me

We may have had a couple of ciders at this stage

At one point they even went to bed at 11pm for a disco snooze and asked me to wake them up at 12:45am to go see another act!  I daren’t go to bed myself or I’d have slept through til morning, so I was forced to go out to the secret House Party venue behind the woods in order to stay awake.  (The sacrifices a mother must make for her offspring eh?)  To be fair, I did feel slightly too old to be in there.  If I’d been wearing a pork pie hat and smoking a cigar it would’ve looked like that scene in ‘Uncle Buck’ when he goes to find his niece at a party.  


Hey, I’m Buck Melanoma & I’m old enough to be your grandparent


The sun raged on over all four days and I commended my optimism at packing sun lotion.  I only hope that some of the bare breasted ladies had the foresight to lotion-up before they glittered up their disco tits, otherwise they’ll be needing some aloe vera right now!

Quality moments were me having a conversation in the woods with Lemka from Taxi about how my Disney ears worked.  Staring at the Avatar fibre optic tree in a pair of lovespecs (freaky).  My eldest almost losing her phone down a composting toilet and having to rake around underneath the toilet block with a camping chair as a hook to fish it out while a crowd watched on!
Also, my youngest niece having her first go on the “Big Eel” and loving it.


The final night closing ceremony firework display was outstanding. Snaps to the lady spinning about in a flaming hoop whilst dangling from a crane.

The venues were, as ever, on top form. The Kamikaze tent was banging after dark, as was the Garden o’ Feeden & the Botanical Disco.  The Police Rave Unit never failed to entertain.  My childerbeast said they’d love to join them in their mobile quest to bring rave to the masses. Big up the P.R.U.  

Although boo to there being no rollerdisco on Sunday! What’s up with that Shambala?Didn’t get chance with all the other stuff to see and do to get our wheelz on this year! #gutted



I fucking love these guys – I wonder if they do school visits?


The Roots Yard was a great place to both chill and skank at the same time. I particularly enjoyed watching a watergun fight between a child and a grown man whilst several people sprang from their seats to throw themselves infront of the water spray to protect their pals who were skinning-up in the noon-day sun.


feeling irie

The Enchanted Wood opened on Friday and was, as per, a sight to behold on a night time.  Amazing light installations, trees that sang when you hugged them, ‘bemusical chairs’ and a very popular Lady Garden area with cuntish cushions to envelop and comfort those who just wanted to chill.

Favourite phrases of the long weekend are;  “Feeling irie”  “Feeling un-irie”, “Utah get me two”, “Is it too early for a gin?”, “Pie o Clock” and “the best of times”.

New phrases coined, after needing a post pie blowout nap, include; “having a mid life pie-sis”, “needing a pie-down”, having a pie-ty” and “no dumpling ever made is worth queuing up that long”.

After the festival, I saw this on Twitter, and it perfectly describes how I felt on Sunday after having a vegetarian breakfast bap and a wild mushroom and asparagus pie with mash, peas and gravy all within the space of an hour!


Pieminister rules! 



We still love the Anna Mae’s mac ‘n cheese of course,  but this year we discovered Club Mexicana’s jackfruit burritos, as big as sleeping bags.  Also Pieminister (who it is with great joy I have discovered have a restaurant in Leeds), Goldenballs risotto balls and dragon punch cocktails in the Roots Yard.  Yet amazingly I still managed to come home with money in my wallet!

It wasn’t all about food and drink though. Inbetween stuffing our faces and getting a bit pissed, we managed to see some bands.  Beatbox Collective – amazing again! (“it’s just his VOICE duuuude!) Some electro swing for my girls; The Beat for some Ska.  Stereo MC’s for some old skool classics – ‘On 33’, ‘Elevate your Mind’, ‘Lost in Music’ , ‘Connected’ etc.  Then perfect for a blazing hot Sunday afternoon we had Benjamin Zephaniah & the Revolutionary Minds.  All were fabulous.  I sang along. I danced, danced some more, went for a wee and did some more dancing.

The fancy dress theme was a fairly all-encompassing ‘Cloud Cuckoo Land’ and the Shambalans embraced it full-on.  I tried to take pictures of the parade, whilst also being in the parade, so I apologise for the wonky shonkyness. I was also having a bit of trouble (Betty) seeing through just one eyehole of my Mary Berry mask.  Yes, that’s Mary Berry – not Margaret Thatcher as I overheard one woman telling her children.
The idea had been that we go as Mary Berrycorns, in unicorn onesies and masks.  The unrelenting heat changed our plans and we ditched the onesies, which had taken up so much room in our bags and cost me in the region of £60 for 3 of the fuckers!  My sister and Bro-in-law didn’t even get to join in, as their littlies had a bit of meltdown at this stage and had to go back to the tent for a nap.  So our troop of Bezza’s was reduced from 5 to 3 and very quickly to 2 when my youngest decided to de-Bez after barely 5 minutes.



Was bloody brilliant to be there with slightly older childerbeast and my sister and her family.  The weather gods were beaming at us throughout. It was glittery, super polite; kind, friendly, totally vegetarian (sorry carnivores) and we did not want to leave and cannot wait to return. (I only ask that more of you shiny happy glittery people use the waste bins provided and not just abandon your empty cans on the ground).

Shambalans, you did yourselves proud and I am now seriously considering proposing a Glittery Tit day at school. Fuck Comic Relief or Children in Need! They’re old hat man.  We can do it to raise money for a worthy cause – namely my ticket for next year’s festival. And if I don’t at least make a cameo in the official 2017 video then I need to up my game in 2018.

Shambala and out…

Ciao Ciao Mo Fos.


Link to official pics here.  Can’t see us but it’s making me want to go back.

Utopian adventures are imminent

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In two weeks time the summer break will be over for me and I’ll be back at work – on a training day – but back in the game nonetheless. What a rip!


Only slightly longer than 5 weeks.  I had 3 months off sick, doing jigsaws, going for lunch at Morrisons with Bman and threatening (but not following through with it) to wallpaper the bedroom. (The rolls of carefully chosen paper are still under the bed).  
How any teacher who has not had the luxury of being mentally unhinged enough to get signed off for a full term, manages to chill out enough in such a scant amount of time is beyond me. Might I add, whilst also doing all their long-term planning and going into school to set up their classes.  That shit doesn’t set itself up you know!

By the end of the week I will be ensconced in a field in Northamptonshire.  Glittery, probably tipsy, wellied-up or possibly barefoot if the weather is kind.

Yippie Kye Aye MoFos. It’s festival time.  And my sister and posse are coming along for the ride this time.

Maybe this year I will actually follow up on my usual threat to fuck it all off and run away to join a circus troupe in Bristol.  How hard can it be to work those silks.


Note to self: Nobody wants to see a 45 year old overweight woman in a leotard rolling down from the rafters in a bedsheet.

If I make it out alive or without running away with the wraggle-taggle gypsies -O!  Natch a full review and pictorial evidence will follow.

Ciao Ciao Xx


Heather, fleas and comedy

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Just spent a most glorious extended weekend in the wilds of the beautiful North Yaaaarkshire Dales at our pals’ place.  

There were birthdays, cider, G&Ts, long walks, a party with goats and some pigs, flea bites, irrelevant art installations in the middle of nowhere and a surprising amount of sun.

Seated man

Seated Man by Sean Henry at Castleton Rigg


We tried to educate the childerbeast with some classic comedy on YouTube and Netflix in the form of The Fast Show and Victoria Wood and completely baffled them with The Mighty Boosh.

“I’ve clinkers to riddle & pots to side”

“All around my… ARSE!”

“Eels up inside ya. Finding an entrance where they can”.

Int comedy BRILLIANT?

Now back to the reality of West Yorkshire & Sadford & having to do dull things like go into work to print out eleventy billion bits of paper on RE and set up 6 different folders.

In the meantime I had a lovely conversation yesterday with a Dutch man on customer services at Virgin mobile to discuss my duffed up mobile (that decided to just die on me for no reason).  Sadly it all escalated rather quickly when it became apparent that it needed returning for repair, which could take up to 10 days and no replacement handset or alternative phone would be provided.  Suffice to say, he is probably going to get the Employee of the Month award for patience in the face of adversity.  His Manager, a very polite American woman, (also with the patience of a saint) very much earned her salary when she took over the conversation.

It was one of those phonecalls which will be, without a shadow of a doubt, used for training purposes.

Then fuck me if my bastarding mobile didn’t decide to start working again this morning!

Int technology rubbish?!

Fuck it and go live in the hills I say!


Ciao Ciao Xx




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A local estate agent has enterprisingly come up with the following map. To assist any potential buyers make an informed decision, in light of our unsettled times with Trump’s stumpy fingers on the button.



 So either a visit to Whitby, or we might just be ok up at Farndale this weekend.  Bman is often in Carlisle with work, so he’d be ok on that shift.

Stock up kids. Or throw yourself closer to the blast zone. Whichever!

See you on the other side MoFos.



Post Holiday Boredom Disorder

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Post holiday blues.

Back to reality.  Listening to the Bman’s usual mantra of, “Who the hell washed this up? Mr Magoo?” and “Why haven’t you eaten these potatoes?” orWhy did you eat those potatoes?” (delete as appropriate to whichever is the opposite to whatever you did). “Why are you doing that? “  (“Because I want to”) “Fine, do what you fucking want” (“I am. I did. But you told me I was wrong”)


My thrill this week has been to test drive my new Shark LiftAway vacuum cleaner. I ordered it before we went away and forgot about it.
  This is as good as it gets once you hit your mid forties – getting excited about new household electrical goods.  To be fair, I do confess to being equally thrilled and horrified at how much dust and hair I emptied out of the dust cylinder once I’d finished the lounge rug.

Roberta Takes On A Dust Rhino



Forget sex toys – this is the new excitement

Another wanton purchase was a pair of Pipduck lace-up wellies, for Shambala, which arrived today.  Imagine my unbridled joy that they’d arrived in time for this weekend’s trip to the Yorkshire Dales.  Karma of course had other ideas.  Stylish as they were, they are also clearly designed for the more slender of leg.  They were far too snug against my bulbous athletic calves, so they’ll be going back.  😦

That’ll teach me to try and be trendy.  Should just stick to the bog standard, men’s fit Dunlops for a tenner and remember that I’m 45 and nobody gives a shit what I wear or what I look like anymore, because nobody’s looking. Not even my own husband. 


Now excuse me while I live a little, and run my new vac round once more – just for the hell of it, because that’s how I fucking roll!


Ciao MoFos Xx


Pictures courtesy of google images