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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. ¬†ūüė¶

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



Ola & Adios

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It’s pissing it down and I have a barrel load of washing that needs drying.
   Yup. Christ almighty! We must be back in the dreary old Blighty.

Since last Saturday’s blog post, I have spent a quality day with the Famalam at The Moss.


The prestigious egg & spoon race

Then managed to get myself and my two lazy girlies out of bed at ludicrous o’clock in the morning to get to the airport. ¬†By lunchtime Monday we were on a lounger by the pool, lathered in factor 30 and assuming one of the two possible positions for the next 7 days.


Position 1




Position 2

It was great to be back. ¬†I hadn’t flipped out on the plane. Thanks to mild meds and a new positive frame of mind and the bonus of knowing what was to be expected at the other end.

Slightly disappointed that since last year, the bar menu had changed, for what we considered to be a poorer selection and worse – no inflatables allowed in the pool!


The donut remained unchristened sadly :-(


No totty lifeguard this year either. (I can only assume he left in protest at the inflatables ban). ¬†Instead we had Bluto, AKA ‘JoySponge Redpants’ and his mate, Lieutenant Buzzkill. ¬†Last known work detail as lifeguards at Stalag Luft! ¬†Their mission – to stick vehemently to the 45minute rule before they confiscated any unattended towels on loungers. And also to reduce small children to tears by turfing them out of the big pool if they had anything remotely inflatable about their small person. Or a ball, or any kind of pool toy. In fact FFS don’t look as if you’re having fun or they’ll be out of their seat and sucking the joy right out of you!

We kept flouting the no diving ban on purpose the moment his back was turned.

My youngest was all set to stage an inflatable rebellion, Les Miserables style. Rallying the troops to take over the pool, building a barricade with their giant blow-up donus, bananas, crocodiles, planes and sharks etc. Demanding at least one day when inflatables were allowed.

Vive la revolution!

We spent our days, loafing and swimming and just eating when we were hungry, which wasn’t that often in the heat.¬†



If you need me, I’ll be at the bottom of the pool – just chillin’

We did occasionally wander about. Going out for meals or for walks along the coastal path to San Blas or on the rocky beach.

I lost my sunnies when I got wiped out by an incoming roller on the 3rd day.  I was lucky not to lose my bikini bottoms too!  Strong current kids.  Take care. The sea is a lady to be reckoned with!


I’m in there somewhere

We also decided to try the Submarine Safari after watching it return to the marina. ¬†“Look kids, it doesn’t even fully submerse. You’re just sat in the underbelly of it” I said confidently.



Altogether now…“In the town where I was born…”

Hmm. Yeah, about that….



It absolutely does fully submerse

What a strange experience that was.  Terrifying and thrilling in equal measure.


But now we’re back. In rainy England where my excitement for this week consists mostly of using my new vacuum cleaner. It is called a Shark though so an oceanic theme does at least still prevail.


Didn’t get any mosquito bites this year though so that’s a bonus!


Until next time dudes


Our next adventures will be in Utopia – by which I mean Shambala Festival, at the end of the month. It will be glittery. It will involve gin and music. I will be in wellies and hopefully, it won’t be a total mudbath.

Ciao Ciao Xx

We’re all (most of us) going on a summer holiday

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It’s Saturday.  Saturdays are weird if you’ve got nothing planned.  Today the highlight has been finally getting a door put on the bathroom. With thanks to the school caretaker and after a whole lot of farting about, ordering and re-ordering doors by the Bman (who apparently can’t measure properly).

I wandered up to Morridogs with the youngest childerbeast to purchase strawberries for the annual Famalam Sunday luncheon at The Moss tomorrow.  On the way we saw a convoy of about two dozen showy cars gunning down Dick Lane (I’m serious). Lambos, Rolls, Porsches, Ferraris.  It was either an Indian wedding party or the queue for WANKERFEST 2017.  Judging by the snazzy threads the drivers and passengers had on, I’m going with wedding.  We tried very hard to ignore their continuous attention seeking engine revving.  If I’ve taught my girls anything, it’s that that they should not be suckered in by a man in a flash car.  Don’t give them the satisfaction of noticing them.  Idiots on quads who are clearly not carrying out essential farming works though are a different matter.  It is perfectly acceptable to shout “QUAD WANKER” at them as they pass, whilst making with the universal matching sign language. In the words of Morrissey – “It happens a lot round here”.

The thrill seeking entertainment for the rest of Saturday will likely involve watching the rest of Catchphrase while yelling at the telly. Possibly having a couple of ciders and seeing if anyone is playing on text or whatsapp (I expect not. They are all likely having far more fun than me).

Next week though. A different story, for in the early hours of Monday (“We rise at dawn”in fact earlier than dawn! 3am for 3:30 if you will) for a weeks jolly to Tenerife.  Just me and my childerbeast.  A bit of sunshine and loafing by, and in, the pool.

Bring it on MoFos (but those mosquitos can fuck right off this year!)

Holiday countdown