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Be kind. Always.

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…she didn’t forget to text me.  So I slept well.


And then I woke up to this.

22 dead in Manchester suicide attack

And then I had a panic attack and sobbed and sobbed for a long time.


I don’t really know what else to say today.

Back in the game

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Last bus home on Tuesday from Leeds was uneventful in the end to say the least.  No pissed-up olds with wet underwear in their handbags cackling away or dancing in the aisles.  Disappointing really.

    I about coped with the crowds of other Micky Flanagan fans at the Leeds Arena, many of whom had clearly been propping up the bar in ‘Spoons since teatime.  Micky was very funny and I shall not be able to eat an iced Chelsea bun again without a smirk on my face.

Sadly, mingling with the masses seems to have brought on a cold.  Lovely.  Snotty tissues and lemsips all round.

I did manage to venture to Manc on Thursday for a surprise meet up with the Fam at Altrincham Markets at lunchtime.  Thought I ought to make the most of an opportunity to do that kind of thing while I am still off work, particularly as my time in the arena of the unwell is coming to an end.  Discussed with doctor on Friday and I will officially be fit for work on a phased return from the 5th June! I’ve had no further counselling but think I could maybe do with some more.  I need to arrange a new person to see though I think.  My usual lady lives out in the sticks so I’m limited to when Bman can drive me and hang around waiting. When I emailed her to say I couldn’t make it it the other week, I got no reply whatsoever and have heard nothing since.  I could be swinging from the ceiling or crumpled on the bathroom floor in a pile of my own chunder clutching an empty bottle of paracetamol for all she knows!

Today I’ve had a meeting with my boss to organise a phased return to work timetable.  It looks fair enough on paper but I guess only time will tell how it will work in reality.  Everyone at work is being very supportive – possibly out of fear that I’ll either flid out again, burst into tears or I’ll go postal & start taking potshots at people from the school roof like a proper loon.
But hey, at least I didn’t get my meds at the local chemist and realise that the pharmacist was a parent from school or anything… oh hang on!
Could’ve been worse I suppose.  I could’ve been collecting Methadone or genital wart cream or something rather than just ‘anxiety’ tablets.


My youngest is at a Wheatus gig tonight & then sleeping out at her friend’s – on a school night no less (because she’s just a teenage dirtbag baby).  Naturally I will be unable to sleep until I know she is home, so she better not forget to text me.

Ciao Tutti


Puzzles, Thrones & Going Out

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My rock and roll weekend consisted of finally firing up a jigsaw, sent to me at the start of my self-imposed house arrest, by a good friend.
It has been sat on the kitchen table for over a month.  

It didn’t take long to get into the zone once I started.  It was a ‘Carry On’ themed puzzle.  That bastion of British TV from the 60s & 70s, soon my brain was awash with thoughts like, “is this Hattie Jaques’ cheek?. **insert duck whistle or close-up of heaving cleavage here**

The cat is claiming it did the jigsaw alone. I helped.

Along with that, I had rediscovered Game of Thrones on Catch Up TV.  (You know you can’t just watch one episode). Pretty soon my restless mind was overloaded at bedtime with phrases and earworms like ‘House Baratheon’, ‘Unsullied’ & ‘You know nothing’ all interspersed with tiny images of dwarves and Sid James’ laughing face, stocking tops, Joan Simms bursting out of her nightie and Kenneth Williams doing that face that he did. Chuck the theme tune in on top of that and it has made for a few restless nights trying to get off to sleep. 

carry on girls

jon snow


sid james

Can’t help but think that if the Carry On team were still in their prime, that their take on GoT might be worth a watch.  The tits and booze are already a given.  I can just see Sid James and Bernard Breslaw dressed as whores for one reason or another in one of Littlefinger’s brothels.

I’d finished the jigsaw by Sunday night anyway and now have a new one to sit on the kitchen table until such time as I start it.  1970s sweets and chocolates this time – once again a gift from a very thoughtful friend.  

Tonight I am venturing out.  Not Out Out. But most definitely outside.  Into Leeds no less for a date with Micky Flanagan for some casual cunting and peep maintenance.  I am a bit nervous TBH.  It’s a huge venue and it means being in Leeds after tea and coming home on the last 508.

Wish me luck.

Ciao tutti Xx

So what’s happening?

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So I deactivated Facebook before I went on holiday as an experiment. (the deactivation was the experiment, not the holiday)

It turns out that you do not need to know what your old 1980’s school pals are having for their lunch or what they did at the weekend.  You haven’t known for over 30 years and you survived and thrived perfectly well.

I have found it strangely liberating and a giant stride towards mental health equilibrium.

Speaking of… not sure E4 E-sting of a couple of cartoon heifers dancing about in front of a sign-post about ‘Mad Cows’ was deliberate or an awkward coincidence during Mental Health Awareness Week (and just before a message about mental health).

I am still signed off sick from work from being nutty as fruitcake ‘anxiety issues’ and for the first time in my life, since that one year in the 90’s when combat trousers and tight tops were all the rage courtesy of ‘All Saints’, I appear to actually be on trend.
It’s ok these days to be a bit barking apparently.  Even the Royal Family say it’s alright.


Have begun to feel considerably less anxious and dippy about everything than I was before, but then I am at home most of the time so I have no cause to be anxious.  (I do also have a prescription which I avoided for a very long time, that’s probably helping more than I’d like to admit).  I tell you what though. Do not ever read the contra-indications on your meds.  YOU WILL DIE!  it doesn’t say that really. BUT YOU MIGHT DIE!  it pretty much did say that.  I forget whether it was as a result of taking the tablets at all or if you stopped taking them without telling your GP – either way, I decided to ignore that and just threw them in the bin (the contra-indication notes, not the pills).

So what else have I learned while I have been at home with my thumb up my arse?
    * My husband is nicer than I thought
    * Daytime TV is mostly shit
    * I have watched about 8600 hrs of various Most Haunted type shows
    * Most of them are exactly the same but I watch them anyway
    * Several of my friends actually don’t really give a shit that I’m off & why
    * I am ok with that
    * It’s ok to be ok with sometimes not being ok


images courtesy of google images

Could have told you this years ago…

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So glad people are researching shit that’s been known for decades:-

Rosemary ‘could help students’ memories’

If they already knew, why bother doing the research?

Heads up. Basil also helps (and it keeps mozzies away). Lavender, Valarian & Hops make you sleepy and dandelion leaf tea makes you wee (hence the old saying about wetting the bed if your pick dandelions).

Don’t get me started on what I could get you to do with a touch of Ylang Ylang, Damiana & Horny Goatweed!


Can’t remember what I went in the kitchen for but I can remember everything I learned whilst working at Culpeper the Herbalists 25 years ago.

Ciao ciao Xx

I will not cave & start watching Jezza

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Thus far today I have exercised to Robots with Rayguns on my new stepper. I have hula hooped in front of a ·repeat of ‘Most Haunted’ (·difficult to tell TBH as they’re all the same).  I watched a skip get collected from over the road and I made a mess on myself whilst washing up.

Is there a word for the wet bit you get on yourself from over-zealous / crack-handed pot washing?  Not sure, so I tweeted Susie Dent from Countdown to ask.  Will let you know if she tweets me back.

I might need to go back to work soon before further insanity piles onto the insanity that is already evident. And before further weight piles on.

Far too easy to confuse boredom with hunger!


Ciao for now working peeps.


Always someone worse off than yourself

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Not gonna lie. I enjoyed the Twitter feed last night of #fyrefestival as much as the rest of the world. 

It was brought to my attention by my eldest, because of course I have no idea what’s going on in the world and the only thing I’ve got my finger on the pulse with, is that I seem to be on trend right now with the ‘fashion’ for mental well-being issues.

Not sure what I mean because you too are also out of touch. Check out this BBC news story on an exclusive festival.   Acts you’ve never heard of, advertised by ‘influencers’ you’ve also never heard of and a dude who last did anything of note about 20 years ago:-

In all seriousness I wouldn’t wish stolen passports or fear for personal safety on anybody but I think comparisons to ‘a war zone’ or ‘refugee camps’ might be a bit of a stretch.

Perspective people. Perspective.

I might run one next year.  Chuck a couple of old mattresses down Bowling Back Lane with some bags of pork scratchings and get a couple of bikini-clad babes to sell it on Instagram.