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2012. A mostly pictorial review of when the World didn’t end

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For my DHW retrospective of 2012 I shall attempt to not use any profanity.


2012 may well have stood out as the year of sporting prowess and nationalistic fervour, overuse of the words ‘Olympic’ and ‘Jubilee’ and the playing of the theme tune to ‘Chariots of Fire’ and of Bruce Forsyth not dying, but I will remember it for other reasons:-

I survived another Y6 residential; taught another successful end of year dance number; met up with old friends long missed; danced to Inner City, ‘Pennies from Heaven’ in my wellies; cycled my mobile back to life; finally saw DJ Yoda; visited a nudist spa (it wasn’t for me…) and despite feeling thoroughly & inexplicably miserable a lot of the time, I have also laughed so hard I almost peed – and I have my friends to thank for that because again, inexplicably… I do have some.  Bless them & love them every one of them! Xx


 My favourite phrase of 2012 came at the end of the year from my eldest..

“I’m not beefing Mum.  I’m whining!”



However for me, without question, the highlight of 2012 was the (eventual) safe arrival of my first niece in April…

Becoming an Aunt

Becoming an Aunt = awesome!

All the joy of being a part of a new life, with a slightly lower chance of screwing this one up because she doesn’t live with me 24/7.


The force is strong with this one…

Maybe in 2012 I can introduce her to nights under canvas, waterproof trou and eating lukewarm noodles from a mess tin on one of my; “When can we go on a proper holiday mum?”  festival gigs.

Last year I managed to get to  3:-

Lounging - magic!

Lounging at Magic

An arresting sight

An arresting sight

Mum's brought us to live in another bloody field!

We’re living in yet another bloody field!

Assume the cooking position

Assume the cooking position

One of them, even childerbeast-free!

Look at me. High up & child free!

Look at me. High up & child free!

Unlikely to manage more than one this year as I can only afford one, so will have to choose wisely (having blown my chances of crewing again for the Angel Gardens by being a massive dingus!) 


Non-festival related nights out in 2012 were very few and far between:-  Miss Sunshine’s birthday in January, Bman’s birthday in February, an 80’s themed leaving bash and the odd village pub visit in Chester – making drunken accusations against TV personalities (several of which have turned out to be purportedly  true) and of baffling the Landlord by deliberately requesting drinks from the 1970’s. 

#cinzano #dubonet #snowball #maraschinocherry


To top them all off… Only last week, the piece de resistance of “Not Quite Boxing Day” when I was lured into going out in the Boro to see a ‘Thin Lizzy’ tribute act.

Not a big fan of the old Lynott, I’ll be honest, although I could pick out a couple of their best known songs if pushed.  I do know though that this is nothing remotely like a Thin Lizzy tribute act:- 

... the hell?

… the hell?

Unless Phil Lynot has gone all “Bay City Roller” that, my friend, smacks of the old Noddy & Dave to me.   Cup a soup anyone?

(Still, it gave me a chance to show off my new faux fur giraffe print jacket).

Mekon, her mum & I, clearly being the only element of glamour in the place, but not enough for any of the leering auld coots hunched around their pale ales to actually get up off their freshly ironed cords and offer to buy us a drink.  Shame on you, aging rockers of Scarborough.

To get to this pinnacle of festive entertainment, which had cost us £4 a piece to get in,  we had to sit through the bar owner’s brother’s band –  The Warriors (who incidentally bore no resemblance in any way to the movie of the same name).

They WISHED they looked like this

They WISHED they looked like this

…and only.  Only. In the Boro, could this song, be requested from the DJ and it immediately fill a previously empty dance floor:-

Keep smiling.. at least we're out-out!

Keep smiling.. at least we’re out-out!

I hold higher hopes for better things this year because in all honesty, 2012 was pretty much a wash-out in more ways than one. 


We’ve already booked for the Harry Potter Studio Tour in February, where I have every intention of embarrassing the childerbeast by having my picture taken in full Quidditch garb, astride a Nimbus 2000 grinning like a loon. 

We have a holiday to France booked for July with the Anson Fam. I have tickets for ‘Cats’ and ‘The Woman in Black’ and I have every intention of dragging my sorry ass down to Northants to make DTR wish he’d never invited us down… be prepared my old friend… be prepared!

I see from Slydealive’s website that they are booked twice to play in Chester this year.  I can see at least one other night out brewing…


I leave you with some of my favourite snapshots from the year, which I shall leave uncaptioned for added randomness.

2012-12-27 22.01.44


 026  098 133051

 148 152 017


022  061 154





017 018


022 021


 102    081


Group hug2

IMG_0286 076  


    And don’t forget… there are always pies….


Ciao for now everybody peeps.  Thanks for sticking with me…  XXx



I fucked up (again) so I’m sorry!

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Someone once nicknamed me Kit the Catalyst and this is one of the reasons why:-

Sometimes, in my fervour for freedom of speech I forget that my gob (AKA typing fingers), can cause harm, as well as make people laugh.   Today I also tried to use a can opener on my Dirty Dancing mug instead of a can of beans with little sausages…

This proves that a) Despite being 40 years old I still need to put my brain in gear before I open my mouth and b) I am a doylem. 

Both of these unfortunate traits have got me in bother in the past and show no signs of abating with age and supposed wisdom.

What I am trying to say in my usual round the houses rambling way, is that I recently made mention of aiding and abetting (albeit in a small way, cos they were going to do it anyway)  some pals getting into Shambala over the fence.

This has brought shame and retribution onto my employers at the time – Angel Gardens, who have got into trouble because of me with the Shambala people.  For this I am deeply apologetic and have no excuses.  I have done what damage limitation I can, but just want to to put it out there that in no way did Angel Gardens, Sam O’ Brien or Keith O’ Brien have any knowledge of this or condone such deception.

My Crew T-shirt is folded away in a drawer as a reminder of what a great summer these people helped me to have by allowing me to work for them,  and how I fucked that up by dragging their good name through the mud by association with mine, and for that I am deeply sorry 😦


Sail away with me honey….

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Festival season is upon us.  (you can tell by the rain and the cancellations due to flooding). 

I saw a young lad tip out of a taxi at the end of my street yesterday morning, looking forlorn and pissed off, with his single skin pop-up tent and an unopened slab of Carling.  Not sure if he had come home after just one night or was on his way. 

Either way he look thoroughly fed up about the 8am thunder storm.


I am collating the usual array of claptrap together for my first foray into the muddy minefield of portaloos and unnecessary headgear at the end of July.  My cupboards are already bursting with packets of anything that hot water can be added to, to form a suitable supper for the children that won’t take up much space in the car.  If this rain persists I may also need to invest in one of these bad boys rather than the old Vango 8man.

I am hoping that despite the river flowing through the site at Magic Loungeabout that they are not forced to cancel, as I am particularly looking forward to Inner City on the Saturday night.  If they play ‘Pennies from Heaven‘ I can see scary ‘Mum Dancing’ kicking in and the childerbeast mortified.  I can already picture them heading back to Crew Camping muttering “OMG she is so embarrassing” through gritted teeth while I rave on regardless!  Ditto ‘Chic’ on the Friday night.  Disco welly times dudes!