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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?

Would it be ok if I just stayed in bed until August?

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i want to get off

Ever get that debilitating overwhelming sense that you have failed as a mother by becoming a mother in the first place? 

That every decision you’ve ever made has been somehow crap, wrong or downright stupid?  Do you catch your breath and almost sick up a bit in your mouth because the children you had (for your own selfish reasons) will have to one day leave you and fend for themselves in a world full of crazies, loons, idiots and fucktards – and that’s after you’ve subjected them to a flawed education system and screwed them up on all kinds of levels by exposing them to your own uselessness?

What have I done to my children by having them in the first place?

That nausea you feel on the way to the job that you now feel fraudulent at.  People there are under the deluded impression that you know what you’re doing.  That you are cleverer than you are.  They seek you out for advice you no longer (if you ever were) feel qualified to give.



Have had a most relaxing week off this half term.  Been swimming, which always makes me feel better – nothing better than this for me:-


But then I get back topside and start overthinking and I get this:-


Common sense will eventually prevail:-


Today though I just felt like I was not worthy to participate in the real world, and by real world I mean the closeted bubble I float around in.  Ended up hiding in the stock cupboard at one point and considering raiding the cache of children’s inhalers.  Managed to make it through first day back without freaking out but can’t vouch for being able to keep it together tomorrow when the punters are in!

Until my flipped out mind regains some sensible equilibrium I aim to focus on the fact that we have actually booked a holiday abroad for later in the year, where I hope to look and feel like this:-


But to be honest, will probably be more like this:-


pictures courtesy of google images