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Tag Archives: Chester

Trick or Treat Y’all

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Favourite time of the year. Samhain. Halloween, All Hallows Eve, Soul Cake Day (Pratchett fans – and that’s a real thing BTW).


One child gone off to a sleepover looking too beautiful by far in her devil horns, with strict instructions not to get drunk or eat so many sweets she spews – it could go either way at her age.  The other one here with her mama, supposedly on door duty to dole out lollies and/or stop Alan Lickman escaping.  He is busting to go out but not yet allowed – despite a most excellent Halloween costume to rival any Woochie prosthetic make-up.  Giffy eye, stud through the jaw and a hole in his neck!  Lovely.  So far though it’s been me who has been up and down like a fiddler’s elbow to answer the door while her ladyship ‘ gets ready’ – for what I’m not entirely sure.

Had a most excellent visit to Chester Y Fronts over the weekend.  Party tea for mum’s birthday with (most of) the Fam (don’t ask) on Sunday, after a mare of a train journey.  A family viewing of the genius Halloween edition of Inside No9. Then a most civilized lunch at Cote in Chester on Monday afternoon and visit to the pub in the evening.  Tuesday, my Pops took the Childerbeast to the cinema and I met my pal Miss Sunshine and we spent a very pleasant afternoon sat by the fire in the Grosvenor Arms catching on up each others lives since the last time we met.


Stay safe out there MoFos. Watch out for Jason, Freddy, Michael Myers, Pennywise, Slenderman (Don’t look directly at him) and if you see any class 5 full bodied apparitions be sure to get a selfie.




Famalam times in the sun

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A most pleasant weekend to be had this Bastille Day/France winning the World Cup weekend.

Vive la France.

Watched the best performance of Romeo and Juliet I’ve ever seen at an amazing ‘pop up’ theatre.  Just fabulous.  Well done Rose Theatre York!

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No “I bite my thumb” Tee shirts. But they did have ones that said “Puck You!”

Such a hot day in York that I was forced to buy a floppy Stepford Wives hat. I may wear it to work every day for my last 8 days.  We also accidentally sort of joined an anti-Trump protest rally, which was nice…we were only trying to cross the street to find Primark.


I’m a very lucky girl… I’m a very lucky girl

Today it was the annual Anson family summer shizzle at my folks’.  Bman won the star prize on the bingo of a bottle of lemon drizzle Sipsmith’s gin. I won a terrifying jiggly ball thing that bounces about and giggles.  I thought the cats might like it…  They don’t!

I was second to last in the sack race because I was given a child-size sack due to being a dwarf these days. I beat my brother and Bman in the inflatable pugilist sticks contest but lost in the final against my eldest Childerbeast.  I gained Brownie points from my neicelings for getting way too involved in the paddling pool Total Wipeout shenanegins – to the point of having to come home in a pair of my mum’s shiny pyjamas with my piss-wet-through clothes in a Tesco bag!



Good family times!  And that’s what matters most.


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Pappy & Ashley’s turn






in need of something but not sure what

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I was meant to be heading south this weekend to visit some pals and have a curry and some drinks.  There was even loose talk of getting hold of a “hot tug” and sailing it to Harlow, but I don’t think that came off.  Maybe next time, when it’s warmer.


Stock Photo from Google Images


As it goes, I haven’t gone.  I started with the snots when I got back from Chester over the Easter Weekend, which was awesome by the way (the Easter weekend in Chester – not the snots).
I also had a clairsentient gut feeling that I should stay home & leave it til another time.  I’ve learned it’s best to pay attention to these things, so here I am.  At home. In the rain. Not ever wanting to see another Easter Egg in a long time and feeling rather cross at why people can’t just commit to a long planned arrangement or answer a text from time to time in a civil, unfacetious fashion.

I know everyone has their own little lives and shit but FFS!




So what have I done instead?

    Ventured to Sadford Town to return a pair of silver Doc Martens.  Not mine I hasten to add.  Seems my eldest wants to go for the Gary Gliiter, Glam Rock aesthetic for her birthday this year.  It’s not ’til June, but these boots she wanted were on offer in Foot Asylum. 

Ordered them. They arrived.  But are neither the right size not the requisite shade of silver apparently.


Had one lovely spring-like day on Wednesday so ordered some new garden furniture.  Natch it has pissed down ever since.  Furniture currently clogging up the hallway and kitchen ready to be assembled.

Still no washing machine because the fucker needs yet more parts.  Bastarding Hotpoint.  ‘Oh we’ll replace your washer if it can’t be repaired’.  Repair dude just laughed at us and said that almost never happens.  It can be repaired….eventually….when he comes back for a third time on Wednesday.  That’ll be over 3 weeks since it initially broke.  I’m running out of neighbours to impose upon to wash my smalls, my mediums and my larges!

So anyway, the trip into Sadford, usually a cure-all when you’ve got the blues, did not help in any way whatsoever. It was like accidentally stumbling through the set of the Walking Dead.  Normally this type of thing makes me feel less inferior. Better about myself.  It could be worse etc.  Yesterday it just made me feel sad and full of gloom that I was doomed to die here. That I had failed as a mother and I had condemmed my offspring to a miserable life in a miserable place.

“Hello is that the Emergency St John’s Wort & Evening Primrose Oil hotline? I’d like to place an order please!”

The best part of the day was when I smuggled some tech into an allegedly haunted shop in my handbag, for a mini lone investigation, Sadly the recorder failed. Coinicidence? Supernatural? Or operator ineptitude?  You decide.  Either way, it had a most oppressive atmos (but did sell the most amazing bits, bobs, tat and oddments).  There was a man in there talking to the shopkeeper about his imaginary friends as she listened unjudgementally and with sound advice.   I may have found my spiritual home.


Boyes store however lit up my K2 device like a gay pride parade.  Too many mobiles on in the vicinity? Or it being so full of the elderly and infirm that the veil between this life and the next is ridiculously thin – the afterlife almost tangible through the smell of wee, lavender bags and the scent of decrepitude?  Again – you decide.


from Google Images


I didn’t want to be one of those olds.  Complaining in the cafe upstairs in Boyes that the tomato soup was sold out, or that so and so hadn’t turned up today and did they think she might have died over the weekend.
But I also felt like I was skidding quickly towards being one of those people (but with less friends).

This time last year we were in Orlando, yet it doesn’t seem two minutes since we were only just planning it and it was 18 months away!


Poss my fave pic from last year’s hol


Life is short.  Do stuff.  Fun stuff.  Sometimes wrong stuff.  But stuff. Be kind.  Be nice. Go out. Have fun. Make some memories to keep you warm when you’re waiting for death in a cafe above Boyes in Bradford and the soup is off and your mate hasn’t turned up.


                                         Gravitating towards the water, as per



It’s ok to just be ok

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So.  I’ve had enough of trying to accommodate some people.  If people want to be my friend and be a good friend, then they know where I am. They know how to contact me.  I’m pretty much done with always being the one to make first contact.  People are busy I know. People have their own lives.  Sure. But it doesn’t take a moment to spare someone a thought and drop them a text, whatsapp or messenger or whatever.

With that in mind I know a couple of heads I need to reconnect with and I shall go old school and telephone them at the weekend.


Meanwhile, I’ll go to school.  Teach my lessons as per my plans.  Change them as and when I need to.  I’ll mark, I’ll come home. I’ll go to bed. Sleep the sleep of the just – possibly unjustly. Or maybe I’ll lay awake pondering about life, the universe and everything. 

I’ll teach my swim classes on Thursdays and Fridays and hope nobody drowns and the parents don’t think I’m a complete fucktard.  If they rebook the classes then I’ll know I’m doing alright.  If they take their business elsewhere and I end up being asked to leave then I’ll know it’s not for me.

And that’s fine.  It’ll be what it’ll be.


I’ll cook and clean and keep house and parent as best I can and that’s the way it will go week after week.

Every now and then I’ll do something different. Like on Saturday when I went to Chester and took my mum and sister out for afternoon tea for Mothers’ Day.



Once in a while the planets will align and the gods and goddesses of all that is mysterious and magical will smile upon me and, after a pointless tiff with Bman,  he will apologise like this.

And that’s okay (although the spelling and grammar is NOT).
It’s okay to just be okay.




Festive Family Times

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What a great Christmas I’ve had! 

Kept having these weird feelings that it might be my last.  No idea why.  Naturally I trust my insight is incorrect (like that time I was convinced I was going to win the Readers Digest jackpot draw on my birthday in 1992) but, just in case, I was determined to enjoy every last element of it.  And I have.
I’ve seen about 2 dozen Christmas films, including Elf, 3 times and the classic National Lampoon Christmas Vacation, twice (“
Save the neck for me Clark”).  I’ve embraced the mince pie, soaked up the Christmas Eve carol service at the village church at my folks’, drunk advocaat for breakfast and played shit loads of board games.  I wasn’t going to let anything spoil it.  Not even the fact that there is no longer a Turkish delight in a box of Milk Tray or Dairy Box (WTF?) or that there were no Ritz crackers at my folks’ or that I didn’t get stuffing again on Christmas Day because only the meat eaters seemed to get it.

It began on Saturday when we took the train to Chester.  Negotiated Manchester on foot between stations without getting too sidetracked.  Mum asked us to meet her in M&S foodhall in Chester when we arrived.  I though perhaps it may’ve been quieter to meet in Mecca during the Hajj, but actually, it wasn’t nearly as mental in there as I had anticipated.



We were at The Moss within the hour and I had no plans of going anywhere further than the pub and the church on Christmas Eve for at least 3 days!  


Pondering how the tree gets decorated

My uncle soon arrived and we had an evening of board gaming.  Much to the Childerbeast’s dismay.  Not because they didn’t want to play, but because it was like games night at Twilight Towers Home for the Elderly or One Flew Over the Bloody Cuckoo’s Nest.  Colour blind, long and short sighted over 45 year olds trying to make sense of the instructions on the QI game or the colours on the die in Trivial Pursuits.

Can I get a For Fuck’s Sake over here?


My brother and his lady arrived on Christmas Eve and after tea we all walked into the village for the annual “You WILL sing carols about a religion you don’t follow, because it’s festive” shizzle.  I had to endure it as a teenager.  Now I shall pass the tradition on.  This year was one of the mildest years ever.  I’ve almost had frostbite in years past, stood amongst the gravestones.




My youngest niece fell asleep.  My youngest daughter refused to join in whatsoever and sat on a tomb with a face liked a smacked arse.  No doubt to the amusement of my mother who was probably thinking that what goes around comes around.


Quick snifter in the Ring O’Bells (AKA The Four Ales) before heading back home to await Bman’s arrival.  Then last orders in The Plough.

Christmas morning.  Leisurely buffet breakfast and then when the neicelings arrived at 10am it was present opening time.




He’s Beeeeeeeeen!


Traditional advocaats all round and let the joy of giving commence.  So glad Mum liked her Ruby Shoo boots and my dad liked his League of Gentlemen live ticket (for local people).  Happy childerbeast. Happy family. Happy me.

All good.

Lunchtime mission to the pub for a cheeky pre-dinner gin. 


Gin as big as niece’s head

Met up with extended in-laws. Youngest neiceling fell asleep again so I took her home. Then it was time for dinner.  We sat down at 3pm and didn’t clear the last things away till after 6pm!  Several courses, crackers that played tunes, games inbetween courses and a flaming pud. (no burnt sleevage this year – well done dad).


Time for a lie down after the washing up before further guests arrived at 9pm for a late supper.  Muchas gin ensued and a game of Cards Against Humanity with my new expansion packs and some hand written blank cards.  Not awkward at all with the folks.  Particularly when questioned by my pops as to whether I had written out the card that read, “Riding Tom Hardy Like Seabiscuit“.

#awks (but funny)

Boxing Day was much of the same quality family time, more board games, very competitive bingo and a descent into gambling addiction playing Dad’s ‘Canadian’ game for cold hard cash.

Next day was time to check out and give my mum and dad some peace and their home back.  We headed to Liverpool for a visit to the brother in law and his wife.  Another huge dinner, own body weight in Quality Street and a bit more gin.


Yesterday we had a flying visit from Grandma on her way to Liverpool and today we’ve done fuck all except watch films on TV.  Kung Fu Panda, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Up, Room on the Broom and Brave.  My excuse it that it snowed last night so I didn’t want to go outside.

Lazy but loving it.

I may venture out tomorrow but failing that it will be Sunday.  New Year’s Eve – I’m spending it with my sister.  Probably all be asleep by 11pm but that’s okay.

I hope you all had as lovely a Christmas holiday as I did and I hope it doesn’t take too long for you to shift the timber you put on with cheese and crackers and chocolates.

Feliz Navidad and Joyeux Noel Xx

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.