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2020 and in

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NYE 2019, I ended up spending with these beauties…


…heavenly creatures, on the edge of becoming. Two of whom were too polite to read out the swears when we played Cards Against Humanity (yet one of whom still managed to win!) All of whom shared a resolution at midnight to always take more care while crossing the road!


My other heavenly creature blew us out for a house party where apparently she was sick in a bowl and another friend threw up in their own hands!  That’s Malibu for you.  Meanwhile, Bman, released into the wilds of Leeds at the last moment, eventually came home in the afternoon of New Years Day after doing whatever it was that he does when he goes out.

I, on the other hand, fell into the sinkhole that is, the Netflix boxset.  Namely ‘The Crown’.  Not sure how I missed this. I don’t care what anyone says, I like the Royal Family. Without them, I highly doubt anyone would visit the UK, or certainly not as many visitors would come. One of my most vivid childhood memories is of going to see the Crown Jewels in London with my mum and my nanny when I was about 5. I then spent many a happy hour drawing the crown and orb & sceptre and making crowns out of cardboard.

I am halfway through season 3 after two days solid binge-watching. I suspect I may soon start speaking in a very clipped upper-class British accent and setting my hair or taking up horse riding. Watch it, if only to get a fascinating insight into British Royal and political history.

That’s if we haven’t been drawn into WW3 before the month’s end of course.




So long and thanks for all the…

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The last night of the year and indeed the decade!

So what’s gone on?  Let’s briefly recap 2019.

Visits to Brighton, Windsor (to genuinely meet the Queen), also my old stomping ground of Bishop’s Stortford reconnecting with old friends.
Tenerife and of course Shambala Festival. Ghost hunts and being invited to join my favourite paranormal team next year.  A new niece born in November and a nephew currently under construction over on the dark side of the Pennines. My business is still running and doing ok.  Yes, it’s wank that Bman got the shaft from Northern and is still out of work but it could be worse. Nobody’s ill and nobody died.

Good things will come. I have to believe that or I’ll go insane. Bman will get some work. He has to, or I think he’ll go insane.

So let us forget that the Universal Credit system both sucks and blows. That to apply for a job online you now have to complete a personality test that assigns you an animal before you get anywhere near an application – one which you only have 60 seconds to complete. Let us forget that we’re rounder, creakier, furrier of the arteries and more depleted in cognitive ability. Forget that a satsuma in a wig has his finger on the big red button in the US of A.  And our government is more chaotic than a chimp’s tea party with LSD in the tea. And let us focus on marriages and births. Changes in careers. Academic successes and the joy of being alive despite all the odds.
Hurrah for Shutterfly. Absorb my favourite snapshots of the last 10 years of weddings, holidays, festivals and family gatherings.  Or don’t. It’s up to you.  Whatevs.

May your 2020 right through to 2030 be blessed and full of laughter, food in your bellies and money in your pocket, the return of the Scoop Shop on the High Street and maybe, just maybe, the invention of the flying car or those hoverboards that were in ‘Back to the Future Part 2′. Who knows, Brexit may even have happened by then.






When we holidayed in a haunted chateau in the South of France


My lovely mama



Probably my favourite photo ever


Bye Bye Degus


Bye bye Gollum







Was meant to be hosting a NYE moot tonight. A soiree if you will. But plans change. So now I’m writing this while watching Corrie and dropping cheesecake down my poncho.  ‘Village of The Damned‘ is on shortly on Horror Channel – that’ll do for me.

Party on Dudes and see you in the next life Xx




A little Christmas miracle

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Christmas with the family in Chester was pretty decent.  Loved spending time with mum and dad and the sibs, the little nieces and Uncle Mick. Also got to meet up with Little Miss Sunshine and her new pooch.  We played many games and ate lots of lush food and came home with a bin liner full of mistletoe courtesy of Uncle Mick.  Now adorning the house and garden.

Am not a churchgoer but I do like to attend the village carol service to belt out a few classics, so we did that on Christmas Eve. Later that evening we had a true ‘It’s a wonderful life’ moment when the Bman felt like George Bailey.  An old friend of his (and ex boyf from a million years ago) of mine, set up a fundraising page Brewer’s secret santa (click the link to see)

“Let’s put this smile back on Brew’s face and a sparkle back in his Christmas.

Brew may be out of a job, and a little down on his luck but let’s show him that ‘Universal love’ trumps ‘Universal credit’ all day long.


Please donate whatever you can : 2, 5 or 10 quid will make a big difference to the Brewer’s if we all chip in.

This is what Christmas spirit is all about…”

There were tears of bewildered joy and protestations of, “why for me?” and “I’m not worthy’ to which I reminded him that not everyone is a cunt that there are kind people out there who care.

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So to anyone who donated. I thank you. Not just for the money but mostly for showing my cynical husband that there is magic out there.

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Back in the game…

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Guess who’s back? back again?

It’s me.

It’s been a long time. I shouldn’t have left you (without a strong rhyme to step to) – You’re welcome Eric B fans.


Not sure where to start here but I’ll give it a go:-

We are currently a single income family.  Double income if you count the kids’ paper round.

The man of the house is now unemployed!   

Don’t want to go into too much detail as there is a tribunal hearing in the offing.  Suffice to say, presently he is unceremoniously out of work, and our days of gratis rail travel are gone.

This has all been a bit of shock to me but I am slowly adjusting to the new circumstances.  He has had slightly longer than me to get used to the idea as a possibility and then a harsh reality.  Anybody seen ‘The Full Monty’?  Remember the guy who lost his job but continued with the charade of going out to work so as not to upset the missus because he thought something else would come up quickly?  Yeah well, that shit happens apparently…


I shit you not!


Lucky for Bman, I’m not the type of wife who was busy booking cruises around the Med and ordering a new kitchen. My idea of luxury is getting brand named cereal rather than Lidl’s own. So we are unlikely to have strong-armed bailiffs coming round to remove the TV. Not yet anyway.

There have been tears, recriminations, a multitude of contrasting emotions over the last month.

Meanwhile, while looking thus far fruitlessly, for alternative employment, he has signed up to apply for Universal Credit.

Mother of fucking Dragons!  They really do not make that a simple process, do they?

I have also had to apply because we are married.  I have had two soul-destroying meetings at Bradford Job Centre in the last two weeks.  The first one where I was not nearly pregnant enough or Polish enough to blend in with the other claimants. That took just 10 minutes. The second visit was for a Self Employment Review.  I was 30 minutes early and sat and watched the man with whom I was to have this review, chatting away to 5 female co-workers.  Of the 12 staff in the office, I saw one at a desk actually typing (but she may have been online shopping for all I know). The rest stood around sipping tea and gassing away with each other.  Myself and 4 other claimants were made to sit in the middle of this as some kind of sadistic torture.  “Look at us with our jobs that we can’t be arsed to do, while you scuffers have to sit and wait for us to speak to you in what we hope isn’t too much of a patronising way (because we’ve been on courses for that kind of thing you know)”



The review took almost an hour of questioning to decide whether or not I was gainfully self-employed.  Good news.  I am.  But guess what? I already knew that by the very fact that I do the work, I get paid for it and make a profit.  Didn’t need a one-hour pointless meeting to tell me that. But, such is the system.  Got to make sure you tick all the little boxes on your Universal Credit Online Journal.  Tick the box to say you know you have a meeting.  (You know you do because they text you and email you to remind you). Then tick the box to say that you have attended the meeting even though you know you attended because, you know, you were there and shit!

Fooooooks Saaaaaake!

Apparently, I don’t have to attend any further meetings, but I do have to log my monthly earnings online every month. Don’t get me started on that one.  Trying to explain that I get paid upfront by the term and eek it all out over however many weeks are in the term.  The system couldn’t cope with that. 


Bman has to go every week to see ‘Pauline’ at Job Club (Yes, they’ve got pens!)  So have I actually.  I made sure I stole a few while I was there.


His ‘Careers Advisor’ made him do a series of mind-numbing questions along the same lines of The League Of Gentlemen – “Are you kind, very kind, or not all kind to animals? – I have to take your first answer!” And this scientifically accurate method has established that his personality type is (drum roll please) – a Koala.

Wait! What now?

Yup. A koala.

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I asked him if that meant he was riddled with chlamydia, ate eucalyptus and slept 18 hours a day in a tree with a propensity to get trapped in bush fires.  Apparently not.  What it means is that his personality type (koala) means that he is best suited to work as a healthcare worker, primary school teacher or in customer services.

I will just let that sink in for any readers who are familiar with my husband and allow a few moments for you to stop laughing and wipe your eyes.


Primary school teacher? Seriously?


The CV and adaptable covering letter that the career advisor did for him, I have marked with a green pen and told Bman to hand it back to him for correction.
Holy crap what a pile of wank!
I’ve told him on no account to use the covering letter because if I had received that from a potential employee it would have gone straight in the shredder.
My concern here is that other people seeking work, might be given that from their career advisor and actually use it! And if they were given an interview or got a job on the basis of that from an employer impressed by the jargon-heavy, wordy, grammatically incorrect bollocks, then we are, as a nation, are fucked up beyond all recognition.


Speaking of which.  It’s Election Day people.  Don’t balls this up for fucks sake!

Ciao for now MoFos Xx



Happy Halloween Mothercluckas

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Halloween is like my Christmas and it’s all over for another year already.


Had an enjoyable day as it is half-term – off work, Childerbeast off school. They helped me make a doughnut-shaped cake and pumpkin soup.  My chocolate ribcage turned out better than expected and I finally got to dress as Melanie Daniels from Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds’.  This caused no end of confusion to the local children who had no idea who I was meant to be or why I had stuffed crows on my head when I answered the door. To be honest I doubt the local adults knew either.


Youngest offspring had her pals round and fair play to them for coming up with the triple costume idea of dressing as ‘Heathers’.




We watched the weirdest film in a long time – ‘Midsommar‘ by the same dude who made ‘Hereditary’.  It made ‘The Wicker Man‘ seem like a lovely feelgood movie about rural life.

Very strange film.

Yesterday I took the childerbeast to Kirkstall Abbey for at atmospheric evening screening in the dark and the fog of ‘Hocus Pocus’. Sanderson Sisters tribute act did a bit of audience participation stuff and it was quite cool (chilly in fact) watching it on a big screen while actual bats fluttered around infront of the screen.


Bman and I (inbetween bickering about nothing and making one another feel bad) did have a strange bedtime conversation on Halloween as we watched a thing on Talking Pictures channel called ‘The Legend of the Witch’. It was a 1970s documentary about the origins of witches and the modern-day witch (as it would have been in the late 1960s). It was essentially a lot of titular bullcrap about people getting naked and dancing about,  literally kissing one another’s bottoms, killing chickens and worshipping Lucifer.
This led Bman to suggest an idea for a Channel 5 reality show where celebrity has-beens compete in acts of paganism and witchcraft.  Sacrificing for survival alongside the likes of Chris Akabussi,  David Van Day and Cheryl Baker et al, all taking part in naked rituals or satanic rites. Compered by someone like Christine Hamilton or that woman vicar who used to be on Gogglebox.  Claudia Winkleman could do the spin-off show on FiveStar.

It’s only a matter of time before that shit actually happens.

It’s November MoFos.  Do not mention the C word (no, not THAT one. I like that one. The other one!)



That time I ‘met’ Bill S Preston esq.

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On Sunday I attended the For The Love Of Horror convention at Bowlers in Manchester. This was purely on the basis that several members of the original cast of ‘The Lost Boys’ were to be there too, including Kiefer Sutherland.  There was a whole host of other horror film actors too, some of whom I had even heard of.

Unwilling to pay the extra £80 for an autograph OR a photo with Kiefer (one or the other, 2 x £80 for both). Or, to be honest, even pay £40 for Alex Winter (Duuuuuude!) I was going to resort to stealth photography instead.

We were stiffed before we even got into the venue by two chancers in Hi-Vis vests asking for a fiver for parking.  I did say, “You know these pair have just got Poundland Hi-Vis and are out to make a buck right?” as my pal handed over a crisp blue one out the window. 


What did I say Roy?

We had a good wander and accidentally ended up at a seance run by a ghost busting group.  I wasn’t into it for several reasons.  Mostly because despite many attempts at it, I have yet to be impressed by a Ouija board. I find it mostly just ideomotor effect. Also, I wasn’t convinced that there were many spirits to call out to in a hangar on the outskirts of Stretford.  It was also doubtful that anyone’s nan was likely to suddenly ‘come forward from the shadows’ in the 10 minutes we had left before we went to get a seat at the Alex Winter Q&A.


We listened to the Q&A.  Not to be confused with Alex Winters who we have since discovered is a completely different person, who probably wasn’t even born when ‘Lost Boys’ was released.


I’d watch a lot more of Cbeebies if Alex Winter presented it in character as Bill S Preston Esq.  He was the only one I would have recognised compared to the rest. In fairness the movie is like 32 years old. We, none of us, look like we did in 1987! (Probably just as well in my case).







I don’t think Jason Patric or Kiefer did a Q&A. Probably just as well, as all I could think of to ask were inappropriate questions about that time Julia Roberts was meant to marry Kiefer but ran off with Jason instead. 
man said I wasn’t allowed to ask Alex Winter anything about Bill & Ted 3 or Keanu Reeves, as that might seem rude. I wanted to ask him what number he was thinking of, but any Bill & Ted fan already knows the answer to that.


Other people were not so bothered though and we got to hear that the Bill & Ted 3 film is finished. They were very tired making it, because they are now so much older and that they are hoping a trailer will drop for it next Spring, if not before.  It should come out in cinemas next August.  He also said that during the filming of Lost Boys, he was almost the Den Father, having to keep an eye on the two Coreys, who were the worst ones for high jinx on set!

He came across as a good guy and it was most excellent to see and hear him.


We then went to get some lunch and ride the carousel outside. Quite surreal with all the cosplayers around.  I saw Brandon Lee from ‘The Crow’ having a cig next to a bin with Beetlejuice. Several Jason Vorhees eating burgers and then Michael Myers, Pennywise the clown, Annie Wilkes from ‘Misery’ and David from ‘Lost Boys’ all rode the carousel with us.



We then hit the Scare Maze.  

There was a fair bit of conflicting and confusing debate in the line as to who was or wasn’t going through the crawl space. I offered to give it a miss to stay with the girls. Then Emily offered to stay with them instead. But Allie wanted me to stay with her, but that meant Linda would be a lone crawler. We asked the queue dude if the crawl space met up with the rest of the maze and he said it did, so in the end Linda and I crawled and met the other 3 in the middle. It was only a short crawl, but properly an all fours situation, while strange hands grabbed at us in the dark.  The rest of it was basically us blundering about shrieking as we witnessed realistic torture set-ups (great prosthetics) and tried to avoid zombies, clowns and killer surgeons.  Allie had a bit of a meltdown in the hall of clowns.  One of them thoughtfully showed us the way out but we immediately ran into a knife wielding Michael Myers, which did not help calm her down. Bless her.  #Parentingfail

She possibly had some kind of PTSD flashback to that time I took her round a Halloween scare maze on our friends farm when she was younger. It was pretty scary to be fair and  possibly a bit too much for a four year old.


The rest of the day was spent attempting to thwart the queue gestapo who marched up and down the lines barking “No pictures please unless you’ve paid” to which my friend (who’d got my digital camera on full  zoom) kept saying “Oh sorry, I forgot” then just went down a different line instead.







Oddly, one of the highlights was watching Tim Cappello AKA the oiled up saxophone player from the movie. He was owning that outfit and that performance and claim to fame 32 years on and also came over as really genuine guy when he spoke a bit at the end.  Used to play with Tina Turner apparently. Made that choker from chain from Home Depot aswell.  Been wearing it ever since I reckon. Same leggings too by the look of it.  At first I thought it was a bit sad, but then thought good on him for milking it while he can.  Have to say, the line for his autograph doubled after he had done his performance of “I still believe”.




I managed to resist spending too much money in the traders hall even though who wouldn’t want a life sized automated doll of Regan from The Exorcist (£350) or a taxidermied mouse tied to a bed?  Besides I spent all my money on two slush puppies at the bar for Allie and her mate. Stiffed again at five English pounds a pop! I shit you not!




Kiefer proved very elusive, being the main attraction and all. We got nowhere near the Lost Boys Cave Set (or the Museum of Monsters and Madmen for that matter). He was hidden away like the crazy wife from Jane Eyre. Not even a whiff of him, never mind being able to corner him in a lift or broom cupboard somewhere.  Had to resort to bastardising other people’s photos from Facebook and a bit of comedy photoshop. I defy you not to chuckle a bit.


What a lovely coupleIMG-20191020-WA0073IMG-20191020-WA0077IMG-20191020-WA0078

A good day had by all, we didn’t get our throats slit by psychopaths disguised as horror franchise cosplayers (because let’s face it we had discussed the possibility of this scenario in the car on the way there).  I doubt No2 child will be coming with me into any more scare mazes. And based on her scaremaze reaction, our visit to the theatre to see Ghost Stories on my birthday might prove interesting!

I did have strange dreams about being on a bus with a zombie Kiefer Sutherland Sunday night myself though.


They’re only noodles Michael

Bring on next year. Better start saving for taxidermy and slushies now.

Ciao Ciao MoFos

How to confuse an old bird

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So, on Friday I eventually got home from work after having to be rescued from a bus shelter on a council estate by my pal. Don’t ask! Fucking buses! Bloody 508 disappearing into a black hole somewhere between Leeds Headrow and my stop as usual.

So I got in, despondent and a bit hacked off, to find an Amazon parcel addressed to Kit Kit Kit.  Bemused I opened it to find this…


I double checked my Amazon account to be sure that I hadn’t made an accidental purchase whilst under the influence. But no. Not guilty on this occasion. (Because let’s face it, we all have at some stage!)

Was someone trying to tell me they thought I was on old witch? Who could it be?  A disgruntled ex pupil still bearing a grudge since Year 6? My husband trying to be funny? My kids sharing their true feelings about their mother? A friend sending me a gift of love or alternatively, an unpleasant prank? The mafia sending a message 2019 style instead of a horses head to the pillow? Could it have been Rosemary, the telephone operator?


Not being sure of its origins I kept it in the bag lest it be coated within with a toxic substance that might melt my face. Or some kind of ticking timebomb making my brain explode, like those Silver Shamrock pumpkin head masks from ‘Halloween 3’.




Yes. didn’t overthink it at all…


It turns out to have been a Halloween love token from a very good friend who had wanted to send me a severed head, but thought it might freak me out too much so sent the mask instead. 

What could my overactive imagination possibly have made of that do you think?

I don’t have a huge number of friends, but the ones I do have are all awesome.  Mostly as fucked up and weird as me and that’s why I love them. But awesome nonetheless.




Next weekend I’m attending another horror film convention in Manchester so expect a full review of our antics at trying to trap Alex Winter in a lift or pin Kiefer Sutherland up against a toilet door.


Noodles anyone?