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Tag Archives: Chester

Fam & Fab Friends

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Movie Quote of the Day:  “Sometimes the most real things in the world are the things that we can’t see” – The Polar Express

Song Lyric of the Day:  “You think you’re mad, too unstable” – West End Girls, Pet Shop Boys

After quite a hectic day at work on Friday I was looking forward to going to Chester for my fab friend’s business launch open evening. There was to be alcohol and nibbly things and good company. I had a dress and high heels in my suitcase.


I was at the mercy of the train schedule though and exacerbated by the late return from school of eldest Childerbeast, whose class had been kept back for being noisy.  This meant we missed our chosen train by 5 minutes, then our connection in Manchester by 2 minutes and our third connection by under 2 minutes. Cue a 40 minute wait in the desolation of Newton-le-Willows station.  Pissing with rain by now, so had to resort to man-wee-stinking waiting room, lit with a 30,000 watt bulb.  Having not heard back from any of the people I was trying to contact, I was now apoplectic with frustration and considering bombing it all off and heading back to Sadford.  It would be too late, by the time we arrived, to go to the launch night as it would have finished.

Bugger, fuck, buggeration, arse, bloody hell and shite!


I stuck with it though and we eventually arrived at The Moss just after 8pm.  I could have got to Hertfordshire in the same length of time!

By this time I’d managed to make arrangements to see my fab friend on Saturday instead and to meet another friend in local pub for a couple of drinks at 9pm instead.

**and breathe**

Walked into the local and a room full of men stopped talking and stared me down over the tops of their pints.  A tumbleweed moment.
A hearty greeting of recognition from the Landlord sent a murmur of approval from the brooding bar that it was ok.  I was indeed a lone woman, but seemingly local, so it was ok and they went back to their pints.

My friend was sitting in the back bar with an excellent choice of gin and tonic already waiting for me.  Good call on the William Chase.  Less elegant was the novelty Christmas jumper when he took off his coat, but hey ho, you can’t have everything.  At least you had your top on I guess dude, after last weekend eh? 


Post pub and parting company with my festively attired pal, I ran into my brother and bro-in-law lurking about outside, so we walked back to The Moss together.  Mum, Dad and my sister were already sat around the kitchen table hammering wine.  I was glad I’d only had 2 gins and no longer drink wine. I knew from past experience that this could get messy. 

I’m not sure any description of the conversation could do it comedy justice. I wish I’d filmed it or live-streamed it on Facebook or something.  Needless to say, my dad was essentially bemoaning the loss of the use of the word ‘spastic’ in the English language. Not as a derogatory term you understand. But when my sister, several wines in at this stage, got on her soapbox, Dad just took the opportunity to wind her up.  I was just sat laughing in that way you do when no sound comes out but your whole body is shaking. My brother, opposite me, doing the same and occasionally, and unhelpfully, making the internationally known ‘spaz face’ & associated noise.  My sister’s husband sat with head in hands, knowing at any point he might have to intervene as his wife was banging the table with her fists and fiercely defending the disabled community (rightly so).  But just letting herself be wound up off the clock by my mischievous dad.  I decided at this juncture to throw Tourettes Syndrome into the mix. My brother brought up the term ‘cracker’ as a derogatory name used by black people to white people (I’d never heard of it but it’s true – I googled it later). Cue my bro-in-law trying to lighten the atmos by calling my mum a “Fucking spaz cracker mother fucker”.  I almost snorted my tea all over myself at this point.

I guess you had to have been there. It was family gold though. Particularly when Dad retold his story about having to take the local wheelchair-bound children out for walks/wheels around Liverpool on a Sunday when he was at school at The Bluecoat as a boy.  His re-enactment of their reactions as he and his mates raced them down a steep  hill was a joy to behold, while my sister’s outrage at this, caused me to snort aloud anew.


I took myself off to bed at 1230 when the conversation took a political turn but I could hear them debating away until; about 3am!

Next morning I got up with my neicelings at some unearthly hour for a Saturday. We held whispered conversations over cereal and then snuggled up to watch a DVD until everyone else got up.  They all headed back to Manc while me, mum and the Childerbeast ventured into town.  Am not sure what we were thinking by going into Chester on a Saturday , 2 weeks before Christmas!  Hectic isn’t the word.  I could have happily jabbed several shoppers in the backside as I tried to weave my way through the masses.

Had to have a Nana nap when we got back to The Moss.  Seriously didn’t want to get out of bed for tea or venture back out but I forced myself.  Glad I did, as it was great to see my fab friend.  Saw her amazing new Health & Wellbeing clinic. I am so proud of her for doing so well. Looking forward to letting her loose on my face when she’s done her blend therapy training in the new year.
I loved the way she was so delighted when, of the options offered for our evening’s entertainment, I said I’d rather stay in than go out drinking.  #SQUADGOALS indeed.

So we spent a most pleasant evening, setting the world to rights, sipping booze in a civilized manner and laughing at offensive memes,  while I was courted by the pet budgie who took a bit of shine to me and wouldn’t leave me alone.


This pretty boy loves me. X

Left at a reasonable hour and was in bed for 11pm.  Journey home today was far less painful than Friday. Other than my tights falling down continually so I had a perpetual low hanging gusset (a pitfall of having lost some weight) and a jobsworth little Hitler of a ticket jockey.  He could’ve done with a festive jumper or perhaps a sprig of holly up his arse!  Bellend!

Am still coughing up phlegm and disgustingness and I seem to have lost my sense of taste.  Slightly disappointing, with Christmas around the corner with lots of yummy things to eat.  It’s been about 7 weeks now.  Antibiotics worked in as much as I don’t actually feel ill but don’t seem to have shifted the 2 kilos of snot that seem to be laying upon my chest.


Thank fuck we break up on Friday.  I need a sodding holiday!

pictures courtesy of google images


What the …..?

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How the hell is it almost 2 weeks ago since I last posted?¬† We’re almost half way through January already!¬† So far nothing has changed.¬† I am no slimmer. Not especially any the wiser but I am still alive and haven’t killed anybody so that has to be good right?

I had an alcohol-free cocktail night out in Chester last weekend to celebrate a very good friend’s birthday.¬†It’s all very well saying that you do alcohol-free cocktails but have you ever looked at a¬†menu of fancy schmanzy hipster cocktails lately?¬†Mince pie bellinis.¬† Cocopop vodka and ovaltine (you think I jest… but it’s true). ¬†I was told I could have anything on the menu but they’d leave the booze out.¬† Essentially if I’d gone down that route, I’d have been left with a jam jar of crushed ice, a sprig of mint and some lime cordial.¬† No doubt for only a quid less than an actual cocktail.¬† I felt a bit like that sock monkey on the PG Tips ad.¬† “I think I’ll just keep it tea”.

Instead I had 3 orange and lemonades and a lime & soda* and watched my friends and some people I’ve never met before, get a bit tipsy.

This week I have¬†held a tarantula, stroked a meerkat, a skunk, a giant lizard¬†and had a marmoset sit on my shoulder and wasn’t freaked out by it’s freakishly small humanoid hands.¬† Also learned that keeping a raccoon as a domestic pet isn’t (as I suspected) a good idea even if it was allowed.¬† Unlucky there Bman.¬† No birthday raccoon for you my love.



Tiny High-Five MoFo!

¬†Anyone who knows me well enough won’t even need to question how, when, or why this happened.¬† Just accept it as truth and move on…


So thus far, January is ticking along quite nicely thanks.

Toodles! Xx

*I’m not pregnant or anything. I’m just having a dry January after the excesses of December.

And Lo our Lord saviour did die on the cross and we all got a 2 week holiday – Hurrah!

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Easter break been and gone.  Weird holiday that seems to have both flown by and also felt like ages.

Highlights included of course seamlessly infiltrating a crowd of dwarves and spending lots of time with my delightful nieces; taking tea with fairies and sheep and hunting for chocolate eggs in M&D’s enormous garden.







My eldest niece (aged 2)¬†seems to¬†already have got the measure of me.¬† Not too late yet to ensure the younger one holds me in higher regard.¬† Best way forward of fulfilling that would probably be to (a) not speak¬† (b) don’t do anything.


I¬†spent an anxious 20 minutes on Sunday, awaiting certain death (or at the very least… a bit of a surprise!) in 2 of Eddie’s bizarre contraptions up at the The Crocky Trail¬†in Chester.¬† One was a ‘Horror Show’ – a makeshift 4D cinema ‘experience’ if you will.¬† The second was ‘The Dungeon’, which I ended up going in alone because my childerbeast were too wussy and Mum’s excuse was that she had to watch Florence.
TBH I am glad they didn’t come with.¬† They would have cacked it!¬† At one point I feared I would be trapped by my own giant head¬† – dead at 42, wedged in-between 2 pieces of industrial grade rubber, entombed forever and considered by every passing punter to be simply just a part of the attraction.

Check it out if you are ever in Chester, it’s well worth a day out but just be sure to expect to get muddy (& possibly a little terrified!)


Low points of the past 2 weeks would probably be having an already ingrained feeling of inferiority and rejection signed, sealed and confirmed (on more than one occasion).  Put in my place it would seem & I now know exactly where I stand.  All previous delusions of self firmly smacked down to earth.


Happily this was counter-balanced by my Pops’ rose-tinted recollection of how I handled the baby & toddler years of my childerbeast.¬† (I think he may be getting me confused with someone else but I am happy to run with it) and on that note I shall take my leave.

Happy Easter, Happy Kwanza, Merry Christmas, Kiss my arse and Have a nice day.















Retro drinks are the new Jagerbombs

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Finished off my half term break with a visit to Chester.  Great to see sib-dudes as usual and get a little lively in the pub with old friends.
Always fun to fuck with the landlord’s head and order ever more obscure and outdated drinks, then question his lack of maraschino cherries.

Martini Rosso’s all round and a Crispy Pancake on the side if you would, kind sir!



Just for ‘Lyns’, ‘Noops’ & ‘Herrarin’ here is a link, as promised,¬†to the 1970’s Public Information film – ‘Apaches’¬†¬† Be warned though!¬† It is way more disturbing than, erm….’Chorlton & the Wheelies’.¬† LOL!





Meanwhile, in a news week of bloody clashes in the Ukraine and hailing the British success at mopping the floor at the winter olympics. I prefer news stories like this one:-  Young Apprentice.
These young ladies should be on the next series of¬†‘The Apprentice’ for sure.¬† Enterprising genius!

I can see clearly now….. (pity)

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Not sure about the new specatecs (finally collected today). 
     Altogether far too much clarity for my liking.  Think I preferred the view when it was a bit blurrier and in need of a good clean.

Wish I’d asked for modifications. e.g. rose-tinted or with tiny windshield wipers for rainy weather or possibly mini¬†roller-blinds for when enough was enough.¬† Or a tiny message scroll like on a bus, but instead of destinations I could wind it on to read things like FFS, WTF? or BFJ!





Hollyoaks spoiler alert.









… everyone dies.








… probably.




> and Jambo is back, and so is the bird who died from an ecstasy overdose after half a pill back in 1992 & Jimmy Corkhill from Brookie turns out to be Mercedes McQueen’s Dad.*


And like I’ve said before, it really isn’t THAT mental in Chester¬† – although with enough gin in me I could tell you a few tales…¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† but couldn’t we all!

.. there was this one time…

She did WHAT??

She did WHAT??

pictures courtesy of google images

Peter Driben – The Secret


* I made this part up for real.

Italian for Bin Raker is Bin Rastrellamento – apparently

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Movie Quote of the Day:¬†¬† “Sometimes we don’t do the things we want to do, because we don’t want others to know that we want to do them.” – The Village

Name that Tune:¬† “Before you know it you’ll be down on your knees” – Easy Lover, Phil Collins

Just to substantiate my long held belief that I’m a bit crap and generally more of a scruffy bugger than most, on Saturday I ended up on my knees infront of a group of men (and not in a fun party time type way).

Let me illuminate you.

On the train on way to Chester and realised I couldn’t find my rail passes.¬† I’d had them in my hand not 3 minutes beforehand when I’d showed them to the guard before I boarded.¬† Cue much frantic emptying of pockets, looking under the seats with the childerbeast and emptying out the entire contents of my bag!
Then, the horror realisation that when we had chosen our seats on the train I had picked up a load of rubbish and stuffed it in the bin further up the carriage.  Had I, in a blonde moment, with my passes still in my hand, dropped them in the trash also?

Only one way to find out.

Naturally, as is the law of the sod, the bin was situated between the seats occupied by a group of rather handsome men.  Could it be worse?  Yes. They were also Italian.
  So there I was, on my knees, with my arm in the trash-can up to my shoulder; raking around among the empty coffee cups, crisp bags and half eaten sandwiches, trying to look cool and casual and not at all mortified as they watched me with a mixture of curiosity and disgust as I triumphantly and somewhat sheepishly retrieved my passes from the very bowels of the bin.
¬† Lucky that Italian is one of the most beautiful languages on earth, so even the words ‘filthy English fat baglady, bin-raking mental case and tramp’ sound far more enticing in le Bella Italiano.

Actually, I just bablefished those very words and even in Italian it’s pretty obvious:-

“Sporco grasso Inglese borsa da donna, bin-rastrellamento mentale caso e tramp”

F F S! *

Thank goodness it got better.

Seeing the Fam. Lots of fun bonding with baby niece who is now almost a year old! Drinking wine with my mum & Easter Egg hunt in the garden on Sunday.¬† Pleasant walk into the village to the park with a refresher at the Ringo’s on the way home.¬† Brunch at Hickory’s on Monday before meeting old mates for late lunch at Sergios.¬† Good times!
I was a tad subdued Monday but only because of day 3 of being the fattest giant in town at The Moss.¬† Surrounded by paper-thin Fam in beautiful surroundings that I could never hope to aspire to, does not give one the best of appetites.¬† Did have a laugh though, rather at the expense of the one-armed chef in the open kitchen.¬† Not that we ridiculed his disability (TBH I didn’t even notice it).¬† Rather the course of discussion went along the lines of whether or not he was still able to chop things safely and was he not tempted to customise his “withered nubbin” (not my words) with various interchangeable kitchen utensils:- stick blender, ladle, potato masher, can opener etc.

One of my friends said she’s “seen me on the TV again last night in ‘The Village'” – referring to her conviction that I look like Maxine Peake.

I didn’t watch it but have seen a clip.¬† To be fair, she has a point.¬† I think it’s the indecipherable hair colour, windblown and unkempt… the dodgy blouse and knitwear are also a giveaway, as is the grim facial expression.

Yup. I can see it.

Yup. I can see it.

I’d prefer it if she meant the more glamorous look she has in ‘Silk’:-


At least she has lippy on here

Just to cap that off.¬† On the train on the way home, some young girls were clearly talking about me and switching seats on the train to get a better look.¬† I caught the words “off the telly” so can only hope that they were also watching ‘The Village’ and not ‘Eastenders’:-

Maxine I can take but not Big Mo Harris!

Maxine I can take, but not Big Mo Harris!

* Which sounds way more pleasant in Italian:-¬†¬†¬† “Per scopate amore

PS:¬† Don’t blame me for some of the hyperlinked shit on here.¬† WordPress sometimes randomly assigns ads to words and I don’t know how to take them off.¬† Click on them if you like.¬† Maybe you’ll win some shit. (Or maybe you’ll inadvertently download a virus to your laptop!)¬† It’s your call!¬†


On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me…..Noro Virus

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Name that tune:¬† “Been a long time. I shouldn’t have left you. Without a strong rhyme to step to” – I know you got soul, Eric B & Rakim

Move Quote of the Day:¬† “I’m waiting for her head to start spinning round” – Parenthood



Since I last wrote. I am now half-way to 82.


Birthday last day at work.  Busy busy, Christmas jumpers, yadayada. No party bag AGAIN from the dinner ladies, even though I added my name to the list and mentioned it twice.

I think we all now¬†know¬†where I stand on that score…

Uneventful journey to Chester Y’s.¬† World supposedly was ending at 1713 GMT, at which point the childerbeast and I were on board the Arriva Trains Wales, Manc Piccadilly to Chester, sharing a chocolate orange.¬† I could think of worse ways to go if I’m honest.¬†¬† The sacred time came and went and unless you count passing through Newton le Willows, nothing sinister or untoward occurred.

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†The World moved on…. pretty much in the same shit way as before


Apparently 2012 Apocalyptic end of days is so last year darling (well, technically, as I write, it’s still this year).¬†

2018 is the all new end of days. 

By then, unless I come a cropper in a freak washing-up accident, I will be 47 and about done for I should imagine, so bring it on I say.

Note to Self:  train childerbeast, Sarah Connors style, to survive all-out Nuclear holocaust/zombie invasion/breakdown of civilised society.

Birthday money –¬† Very nice thank you very much all.¬† May treat self to new mattress and I have just realised Thing1 needs new passport for July trip to France so ¬£46 of it will go on that!


23rd Dec, we were back on train to Boro.¬† Christmassy¬†feeling now kicking in.¬† Very nice. About time too.¬† Then on Christmas Eve very early morning as karmic punishment to my annual “Don’t like it Christmas” munterings, I was rudely awoken by a poorly Thing1¬†who only just made it to the bathroom for a Chunderbirds are¬†Go situation.¬† Cue rest of night/wee small hours spent holding back her hair while she continued to barf and between barfs, begged me to make it stop.


Christmas Eve visit to Santa’s Grotto at the magical Boyes; lunch at The Hut and some last minute¬†gift purchasing and casual retail therapy on self, now kiboshed and just another pipe dream.

TV in spare room at Grandma’s also bolloxed, so no festive telly to watch while I sat at my wee one’s sickly bedside.


She began to rally towards the end of the day and managed to make it downstairs.¬† Colour returning to her cheeks just as it began to drain from Thing 2’s.

Ding Ding. Round 2!   Older child = bigger insides = lots more hurlage!


This time, for added¬†“Fuck You and your Christmas sucks attitude!”¬† This one was firing from both ends.

“Nurse! The Screens please” and “Grandma where do you keep the Vim?”

Bejeebus.  Someone somewhere was laughing at me good style, let me tell you!

Rest of evening not spent inhaling Quality Street and drinking self into acute liver failure, which is as it should be.¬† Instead it was buckets and bowls, showering children clean, changing bed linen and hoping against hope that they would both settle down and get to sleep and feel better for Santa…


Fortunately, they both did sleep and feel better.  We were up at a respectable 7am.  Santa HAD been, although some of his choices were a little bizarre.

I know what's on Santa's mind

I know what’s on Santa’s mind


An odd gift but much appreciated

It's as big as my face!

It’s as big as my face!

 Loved my Jenny Lawson book and Gil Elvgren calender though Рwell done the Bman!Xx


¬†For the children… he may have underestimated the height of Thing2 because when she opened up her new scooter & hopped aboard, it looked like a remake of Gulliver’s¬†Travels or perhaps Santa mistook her gifts for Warwick Davis’s.¬†

I would have loved to have inserted an amusing picture here of her hunched over the handlebars, but she refused to let me take a photo.

She eventually saw the funny side once she stopped beefing and of course mummy dearest¬†promised to make good Santa’s ineptitude, so¬†a scooter more suitable for someone of her height, for the princely sum of ¬£35 is on its way, in the early new year.

One year, I will spend my birthday money on myself.


Boxing Day, as I may have mentioned, is a day of drinking and catching up with (or hiding from) old school¬†pals and exes in the bars and saloons of Scarborough.¬† A tradition dating back to when Fisherman’s Wives invented binge drinking in the days before alcopops.

I was looking forward to it.

In usual circumstances I would write an entirely separate blog entry about my adventures on this day. Painting a picture of hedonistic, debauched rumbunctiousness of a Bacchanalian nature.  Photographic evidence and possible video footage would be uploaded. Names would be altered to protect the innocent and those of a professional standing.

However…instead I stayed in my dressing gown¬†all day, didn’t eat or drink a thing. Fell asleep on MiL’s bed at 3pm and woke up again at 7:30pm – drained and weak from the shits!

Karma –¬†clearly a big fan of Christmas and all it entails, was very much laughing his ass off at me this year.


I even had an overnight pass out and a free room at a hotel in town so I didn’t have to shamble back to Grandma’s in a state.¬† I was going¬†to help my friend who recently had a 40th birthday celebrate it, belatedly but in style and disgracefulness.

But No.

I had the shits instead.



Back home now.  Ready to see in the New Year with The Ludewig Posse tomorrow.  May 2013 bring peace, joy, happiness and possibly my being able to spend my birthday money on myself.

The DHW pictoral run down of 2012 will be in your face within the next few days.

Until then have a safe New Year whatever you may be up to.  May the force 9 gales and midnight hailstorms not keep you awake or blow the tiles off your roof!

And remember… don’t fuck with Karma, or that Mother will Noro-Virus¬†your ass when you least expect it!

Ciao for now peeps