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Back in the game

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Last bus home on Tuesday from Leeds was uneventful in the end to say the least.  No pissed-up olds with wet underwear in their handbags cackling away or dancing in the aisles.  Disappointing really.

    I about coped with the crowds of other Micky Flanagan fans at the Leeds Arena, many of whom had clearly been propping up the bar in ‘Spoons since teatime.  Micky was very funny and I shall not be able to eat an iced Chelsea bun again without a smirk on my face.

Sadly, mingling with the masses seems to have brought on a cold.  Lovely.  Snotty tissues and lemsips all round.

I did manage to venture to Manc on Thursday for a surprise meet up with the Fam at Altrincham Markets at lunchtime.  Thought I ought to make the most of an opportunity to do that kind of thing while I am still off work, particularly as my time in the arena of the unwell is coming to an end.  Discussed with doctor on Friday and I will officially be fit for work on a phased return from the 5th June! I’ve had no further counselling but think I could maybe do with some more.  I need to arrange a new person to see though I think.  My usual lady lives out in the sticks so I’m limited to when Bman can drive me and hang around waiting. When I emailed her to say I couldn’t make it it the other week, I got no reply whatsoever and have heard nothing since.  I could be swinging from the ceiling or crumpled on the bathroom floor in a pile of my own chunder clutching an empty bottle of paracetamol for all she knows!

Today I’ve had a meeting with my boss to organise a phased return to work timetable.  It looks fair enough on paper but I guess only time will tell how it will work in reality.  Everyone at work is being very supportive – possibly out of fear that I’ll either flid out again, burst into tears or I’ll go postal & start taking potshots at people from the school roof like a proper loon.
But hey, at least I didn’t get my meds at the local chemist and realise that the pharmacist was a parent from school or anything… oh hang on!
Could’ve been worse I suppose.  I could’ve been collecting Methadone or genital wart cream or something rather than just ‘anxiety’ tablets.


My youngest is at a Wheatus gig tonight & then sleeping out at her friend’s – on a school night no less (because she’s just a teenage dirtbag baby).  Naturally I will be unable to sleep until I know she is home, so she better not forget to text me.

Ciao Tutti


Puzzles, Thrones & Going Out

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My rock and roll weekend consisted of finally firing up a jigsaw, sent to me at the start of my self-imposed house arrest, by a good friend.
It has been sat on the kitchen table for over a month.  

It didn’t take long to get into the zone once I started.  It was a ‘Carry On’ themed puzzle.  That bastion of British TV from the 60s & 70s, soon my brain was awash with thoughts like, “is this Hattie Jaques’ cheek?. **insert duck whistle or close-up of heaving cleavage here**

The cat is claiming it did the jigsaw alone. I helped.

Along with that, I had rediscovered Game of Thrones on Catch Up TV.  (You know you can’t just watch one episode). Pretty soon my restless mind was overloaded at bedtime with phrases and earworms like ‘House Baratheon’, ‘Unsullied’ & ‘You know nothing’ all interspersed with tiny images of dwarves and Sid James’ laughing face, stocking tops, Joan Simms bursting out of her nightie and Kenneth Williams doing that face that he did. Chuck the theme tune in on top of that and it has made for a few restless nights trying to get off to sleep. 

carry on girls

jon snow


sid james

Can’t help but think that if the Carry On team were still in their prime, that their take on GoT might be worth a watch.  The tits and booze are already a given.  I can just see Sid James and Bernard Breslaw dressed as whores for one reason or another in one of Littlefinger’s brothels.

I’d finished the jigsaw by Sunday night anyway and now have a new one to sit on the kitchen table until such time as I start it.  1970s sweets and chocolates this time – once again a gift from a very thoughtful friend.  

Tonight I am venturing out.  Not Out Out. But most definitely outside.  Into Leeds no less for a date with Micky Flanagan for some casual cunting and peep maintenance.  I am a bit nervous TBH.  It’s a huge venue and it means being in Leeds after tea and coming home on the last 508.

Wish me luck.

Ciao tutti Xx

So what’s happening?

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So I deactivated Facebook before I went on holiday as an experiment. (the deactivation was the experiment, not the holiday)

It turns out that you do not need to know what your old 1980’s school pals are having for their lunch or what they did at the weekend.  You haven’t known for over 30 years and you survived and thrived perfectly well.

I have found it strangely liberating and a giant stride towards mental health equilibrium.

Speaking of… not sure E4 E-sting of a couple of cartoon heifers dancing about in front of a sign-post about ‘Mad Cows’ was deliberate or an awkward coincidence during Mental Health Awareness Week (and just before a message about mental health).

I am still signed off sick from work from being nutty as fruitcake ‘anxiety issues’ and for the first time in my life, since that one year in the 90’s when combat trousers and tight tops were all the rage courtesy of ‘All Saints’, I appear to actually be on trend.
It’s ok these days to be a bit barking apparently.  Even the Royal Family say it’s alright.


Have begun to feel considerably less anxious and dippy about everything than I was before, but then I am at home most of the time so I have no cause to be anxious.  (I do also have a prescription which I avoided for a very long time, that’s probably helping more than I’d like to admit).  I tell you what though. Do not ever read the contra-indications on your meds.  YOU WILL DIE!  it doesn’t say that really. BUT YOU MIGHT DIE!  it pretty much did say that.  I forget whether it was as a result of taking the tablets at all or if you stopped taking them without telling your GP – either way, I decided to ignore that and just threw them in the bin (the contra-indication notes, not the pills).

So what else have I learned while I have been at home with my thumb up my arse?
    * My husband is nicer than I thought
    * Daytime TV is mostly shit
    * I have watched about 8600 hrs of various Most Haunted type shows
    * Most of them are exactly the same but I watch them anyway
    * Several of my friends actually don’t really give a shit that I’m off & why
    * I am ok with that
    * It’s ok to be ok with sometimes not being ok


images courtesy of google images

Back to reality…

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Well now you’re back. From outer space. – Well Florida in the good old U.S of A to be accurate.

I should write a comprehensive review of the entire holiday but to be honest, I can’t be fagged. Mostly because it will surely be the online equivalent of making people sit through a slideshow of your holiday photos in a darkened lounge.

Suffice to say. I had a lovely time. I was mostly relaxed, helped occasionally by prescription anxiety meds and despite gritted teeth at trying to explain things twelvty thousand times to family members who won’t or can’t listen.  

My husband and eldest daughter were twanged 100m into the air in a glorified garden chair.  We spent the evenings raccoon watching.  I almost trod on a snake and we were quite happy to hand over $5 for one ice-lolly at Disneyworld. We even saw Ant & Dec, who unsurprisingly, completely ignored us when we sang ‘Let’s Get Ready to Rumble’ at them.
I also now have biceps like Hulk Hogan from pushing the Mil around various attractions in a wheelchair. Lou & Andy style.

We have cornered the market in fridge magnets, eaten more shrimp than necessary, survived without any mozzie bites, met some princesses and pretty much decided that indeed it was the holiday of a lifetime – mainly because we never want to go on holiday together ever again.


It remains to be seen how I will feel once reality of being back in Sadford kicks in.  I already miss the sun; loos that flush themselves, and the politeness and friendliness of the natives. 

I am not missing the decibel level of snoring from Bman, who scaled new heights of noisiness on American soil, to the point of waking himself up! Not sure what that was about. 


Snaps to Kathy at Orlando airport for saving us from having a technical meltdown while trying to print out our boarding passes. And to the lovely Quentin at Brueggers in Philadelphia airport for patiently helping us get rid of our pockets full of American shrapnel.

Would I go again?  Yes. Although I doubt I will ever be able to afford it again.

So, close the curtains, make a cuppa and sit yourself in a darkened room and check out a select crop of my holiday snaps.


One of the many pools at Westgate Lakes Resort



That’s $10 of lolly right there



Blues Brothers show at Universal



My daughter & husband are up there!





I want that one!




Hulk ride at Universal



not sure who this lot are – Disney Hollywood Studios





This photo pretty much sums up these pair

Still here.

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This week I’ve made inroads towards cleaning out my metaphorical closet. By which I mean that I have deactivated Facebook, AKA the thief of time. I have decided not to contact anyone who never contacts me unless I instigate the communication. If they’re thinking of me, then they’ll be in touch. If they don’t get in touch, then I know where I stand.  This has made me rather sad but I think it’s for the best.


I’ve had a return visit to the GP. I couldn’t remember the name of the one I saw last time (turns out she was called Dr Brew believe it or not!)  You’d think I’d remember that FFS!


Saw a different dude who was more than happy to give me another note up until the end of April.  He also gave me some tablets which may help to take the edge off during our flights to America at the weekend.  A bit of Florida sun and stalking some Disney princesses  might be just the job.

I psyched myself up to take my sicknote into work myself today rather than have my friend take it in.  I wanted to know I could get through the door without throwing up or having a panic attack.



Meanwhile, at the weekend we go to the U S A. Naturally I am more worried about not being let in on some Visa technicality by Donald Trump’s rigorous new travel laws. Or being shot in a drive-by or a carjacking. Or suffering a calamitous rollercoaster ride at one of the dozen or so theme parks. Or being eaten by an alligator, or worse still, one of my kids getting eaten.
These things are scaring me more than the more likely scenarios that our house will be burgled while we are away because I have now let the world know that we will be away. Or that the degus and the hamster will die or the cats will die at the cattery.

Maybe I should take all some of those tablets the doc prescribed.


I think my transition into dementia may be a very smooth and seamless decline.




Twelve years a slave (to my love for my baby girl)

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Song lyric of the day:  “On 33 I’m setting you free. On 45 I’m coming alive” – On 33, Stereo MCs

Movie Quote of the day: “love is a gift. A lot of people don’t remember that.” – Hairspray

Today is my youngest offspring’s birthday.  Bman went old skool & got her a little record player. Finally some tech us olds are more savvy with than the young ‘uns.


At least the vinyl in the house is worth listening to. So far she’s played some Nirvana and Deep Purple. Can’t see her entertaining any of my old 1980’s electro or 1990’s rave though. We’ll just leave those gems gathering dust on the living room shelf.

 Rave on!  Rock on!

I give it a week before she breaks the needle.

Ciao Tutti Xx

Weird Weekend

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This weekend was mine and the Bman’s annual overnight jolly at a local hotel for his birthday.  Bit of Us Time, with no kids and a bunch of booze and a swim and spa. You get the picture?


My sister came to babysit and off we went, with a stop off at th’Asda en route for a bedroom picnic of randomness.  Pots of pasta salad, fruit, nibbly things etc.

Was a bit peeved that the Jacuzzi was out of action but also intrigued as to why, considering the signage said in big bold letters “OUT OF ORDER DUE TO A MAJOR INCIDENT”.

What could’ve happened?  Was someone sucked into the mechanism? Did someone drown? Was there a Final Destination style episode with someone pushing up too hard against the bubble pipe, getting it stuck up their bumhole and exploding?

Inquiring minds need to know.

After a few lengths of the pool where Bman tried to beat me in a swimming race (never going to happen mate – give it up dude!) We headed back to the room to get ready to head to the hotel bar.

That’s when shit started to get a bit odd.  Firstly, things looked up immediately as we walked to the bar. The Leeds United squad were checking in (and some of them were checking me out).  I knew where to go if the Bman failed in his husbandly duties later on or passed out too early.


Hello boys!  Room G09.

The bar was unusually busy for a Best Western hotel in Bradford.  I’d checked the special events board while I was waiting for Bman to come out the pool.  There was nothing listed for that night.  No David Bowie tribute act or Wedding Fayre or similar. Nothing.  Yet the bar was 4 deep. 
   It was at this point that I noticed that many of the patrons were masked.  I gave Bman a nudge as he tried to muscle in closer to the bar“Brew, look at everyone.  WTF?”
Belated works Christmas do maybe?  I think not.  I was put in mind of that documentary about dogging, where everyone interviewed was wearing badger masks.  “I think we’re at a swingers do” I whispered.  We were being scrutinized by the eclectic collection of masked revelers.  Big sturdy women, puny men in cheap suits, young ‘uns in their 20s. All in various styles of mask.  Phantom of the opera style; tragedy/comedy style; feathered and plumed; elaborate plague doctor numbers.  Many of them clearly knew one another.  A few looked like newbies.  I was amused and slightly nervous in equal measure.  I took a seat and waited for Bman to bring me my drink as I people-watched.
This turn of events went some way to explain why, when we checked in, the couple in front of us were asked by the Reception if they were here for the **loaded look toward the banqueting suite**  Not sure why we weren’t asked.  Perhaps we had not given the desired codeword or secret handshake or something or more likely,  just didn’t look the type.

Bman lurched to the miniature chaise I’d bagged for us. He looked a bit green. I thought maybe he’d been propositioned by Fat Fucking Mavis already.  Turned out he had in fact already been shafted by the barman- to the tune of £23 for 2 G&Ts!
My husband is one of the cheapest curmudgeons I know.  He was going to be savouring this drink for shizzle (& talking about it for months, maybe even years!)

At some unseen signal, the Eyes Wide Shut posse suddenly all left at the same time and headed into a private function room. I speculated that it would be full of banquettes, airbeds, bowls of condoms and baby wipes with a giant screen showing porn.  I tried to get Bman to go take a peek but he wasn’t having any of it.  Leeds United had sloped off into a different room.  Things could have got very complicated if ever the twain should meet.


Don’t fancy yours much


 Overpriced gins nursed and savoured, we headed back to our room, as a second round was clearly not happening in this lifetime.  Not  5 minutes later, as we were about to get into bed, we heard what sounded like someone knocking at the door.  Bman was up and at ’em when it became apparent that someone was actually using a keycard to get in.  The door opened and there was a small black dude clutching a suit bag and saying “Hi, are you Brewer?”  Bman is like “Erm yeah!”  Geezer then says cheerily, “Hi I’m Danson, I’m sharing with you.”


“Not with us you’re not mate” says Bman.  Little Danson looked proper chuffed to have clocked Bman.  Clearly into the big bear man.  Not so much chuffed when he saw me.  (Don’t think I was his type).  He was utterly convinced he was sharing with us.
Bman looks at me and I’m like,
“Surprise! Happy Birthday honey – look what I ordered”.  For a second he looked as if he believed me.  Then I was all, “Seriously pal. WTF?”  Danson was sent packing back to Reception with his suit bag and his little mask poking out of his overnight bag.

What the actual FUCK??

What if he’d rocked up  minutes sooner while we are the bar and we’d come in to find him in the shower, having a shit,  or worse!   A few minutes later and he’d have let himself in and copped an eyeful of me and the Bmeister in full flagrante!  A sight to behold from a third party viewpoint I’m sure!

I rang Reception and asked most politely if they could explain why a diminutive black man had just let himself into my room just as I was about to give my husband his birthday present.
I was hurriedly passed onto a more senior desk jockey who gabbled something about a Tai Kwondo conference (sure it is pal) and a mistake due to someone else in the hotel having the same surname as us. 

We were offered a drink from the bar as recompense.  I insisted on something fizzy and was told “absolutely madam. So sorry madam”.  A shitty bottle of white wine arrived within 10 minutes.  I don’t sodding drink white wine but was so cross I just mixed it in with the champagne that we’d brought with us.

Dunno what happened to young Danson.  Maybe he ended up bunked up between one of the hefty old birds from the bar and her weedy husband. Who knows.

This morning I argued the toss at check-out with the camp flat-topped desk jockey about not paying for the room after their unacceptable mistake.  Embarrassed him by telling him we had just been about to get down on it when our uninvited guest let himself in.  He hid his face behind the check-in details to hide his blushes

He wasn’t embarrassed enough to give in on the payment though.  But I wasn’t giving in either.  He claimed the free bottle of shit wine was enough of a recompense.  Told him they hadn’t even done that right.
He wouldn’t back down.  I said I didn’t know what type of hotel he was working at but never in my days had anything like this ever happened to me at any other major hotel chain.  What kind of establishment sends a third party into a room where a couple have already checked in to a double bedded room?

After a bit of a stand-off, some hard stares, and a slight increase in volume, we compromised with him halving the bill.

That’ll do nicely Sir.  (Although I am still writing a strongly worded email to Head Office).

Maybe some other time Danson old pal.  Hope you had fun inbetween Mr & Mrs Fox mask.

Could only happen to us!  Looking forward to next time!

Ciao Tutti Xx