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They’re behind you!

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Another weekend. Another night spent pratting about in the dark with my pal. 

 

On the way to our latest venue last night, we called for petrol and saw a colleague from work & his mate.  They were on their way to an evening of Dungeons & Dragons. Am pretty sure that this wins in a hand of Twat Top Trumps and our Garage Forecourt Geek-Off (but it’s a close call, as at least their evening was free!)

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Armley Mills after dark.  It could only have been improved if there had been less people there, or even better – just Scoob and I left to our own devices.
There were 10 noobs there and 17 experienced twats idiots loons paranormal investigators of varying degrees of hopeful skepticism and belief.

During the introduction and health & safety talk in the brightly lit meeting/cafeteria area, I was tugged on the hood (not a sexual euphemism) although nobody was anywhere near me. So that was a good start.

🙂

When the over-long intro part was finally done, we all followed Pammie PamPam ‘please call me Pamela not Pam’ on a tour of the museum.  I’ve been a few times and it did feel strange to be there in civilian garb.  Usually when I’ve been, it’s for a school trip about Victorians and we’ve all been dressed up like this:-

Sepia Kit

Assume the position for your caning

Sepiablur

Last time I was there, a couple of years ago, I was poked in the back of the leg when all my young charges were accounted for.  The time before that, my work mate thought I was stood behind her in the school room until she realized I was across the other side of the room. Again, all the children and other staff were accounted for.

Weird!

First we entered the carding room area, with the huge carding machine and the old looms.  This room is alive (or should that be dead) with residual energy and is where I was prodded last time.  A very definite “They’re heeeere!” moment in this area.

Poltergeist


I often get a whoosh of something or other next to the carding machine.  Possibly just thinking about how many severed extremities are probably still within its spikey workings.  In fact one of the other people there said his grandfather had met his end whilst cleaning such a machine at a different mill, when someone switched the machine back on and he was dragged into the mechanism!

Messy!

I was keen next to go in the cinema area – not an original feature of the mill of course. It was the old Armley cinema. Fixtures and fittings moved and reassembled exactly the same.  One of my friends refuses to go in there at all on school trips. She doesn’t like the vibe at all.
I had no fear of it, although we did feel that there was a man watching us, somewhat amused. Probably thinking,
“WTF are these dumbarses doing buggering about in the dark?”  Whoever he was, the sod touched me on the shoulder. And I mean a hand on the shoulder touch, not like there was a moth on me or anything.  I felt it and I jumped.  And there was nobody else there.

Admittedly I did not jump as high as when I turned and was face to face with my pal in the dark, who I thought had walked off.  I properly babbed myself then! LOL.

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Fooks Saaaake Scoob!


When on our own in the sewing machine room, someone walked between the two of us. A very definite rush of cold air, with no open windows or doors and we both felt it at the same time.

The sewing machine room

Usual meaningless bollocks on the ouija boards – I don’t trust them, or rather I don’t trust the people around the board. Fascinating though it may be from a scientific and psychological study point of view.  I  was getting distracted by some quality parabolia on this heater – a relation of Wilson the ball maybe?

I had a clamber about taking pics underneath the machinery.  I figured if I was a dead child still lingering about, I’d be hiding underneath or behind some shit, giggling and getting ready to prod the unsuspecting living for a laugh. What with lurking about for years in the nether, possibly being a bit dull.

Don’t let the brightness of these photos fool you.  The flash on my camera is super bright.  It was black as pitch in there.

Nice light anomaly on here (prob just torch flare)

Very entertaining evening. I only wish we’d had more time to explore on our own without 25 other people making a load of racket.

Next time – Nottingham Galleries of Justice in November.

Ciao for now MoFos. xX

 

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A night at the institute

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At the start of the year my friend and I embarked on our first ‘ghost hunt’ together and now we’ve been on about 6 and are no more informed than when we started.
I do get asked why we bother, but to be honest, they can be huge fun, as long as you don’t mind the dark and occasionally mixing with people who believe every last belly gurgle or door creak is
proof of life after death.

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I’m not scratching my arse with my torch – honest

Friday night we went on another one, this time at an old building near Keighley.  We arrived an hour late by mistake and they weren’t expecting two women – the only missing name on their list was a Dave Subborn.  Feck knows who he is or why his name was associated with my email booking and my deposit.  Must be paranormal!

🙂

 

We were snuck upstairs by some of the staff to the chapel area where the 26 strong group had already started (including a 10 strong hen party with sashes and veil!)  They were all holding hands in a circle and attempting a ‘human pendulum’.  For the uninitiated, this is essentially someone standing up inbeweteen 2 other people and the spirits are then asked to push the person in the middle either forward for Yes or backward for No. (#notconvincedbyalongstretch)

The man doing all the calling out seemed to have a military background, possibly in the inquisitorial squad at Guantanamo Bay.  “Are you a male? Yes or No”, “Are you from this building? Yes or No” – as he marched around the circle barking his questions. “Do you mean us harm? Yes or No”, “Do you know you’re dead? Yes or No”.  He continued marching around the circle, occasionally tapping someone else on the shoulder to have a go at being the human pendulum.  At this point my friend whispered that it was like a really slow version of Duck Duck Goose and that it was also a bit like he was playing Guess Who, as she whispered “Are you wearing a hat? Yes or No” and then dissolved into barely suppressed giggles which then set me off.  Both of us sniggering away in the dark, trying to pretend we just had a cough.

After a bit more of an explore, it was break time. Like being at a very strange wedding reception, with a running buffet of various sandwiches, crisps and cake, some of which ended up a bit soggy after my pal spilled her coffee over it when I made her laugh

We checked out various areas of the building.  A small theatre, a swimming pool (now boarded over).  We did ouija boards, where strangely a Dutch woman came through and as if by magic, one of the staff members, spoke Dutch.  Everybody felt freezing but the room temperature was steady.One lady left the room because she felt sick and I almost fell asleep (nothing new there).  

Time for another tea break, where for reasons I forget now, we ended up laughing hysterically about whether anyone had ever investigated Martin Bashir as a serial killer – the Harold Shipman of the showbiz world.  This led onto reading online about a conspiracy theory that Oprah Winfrey or Jeffrey Daniels of Shalamar may have had Michael Jackson killed.  One to further their status in the Illuminati, the other as vengance for stealing their dance moves.  I’ll leave it up to you to work out which.

FFS!

After a bit more investigating.  Another fruitless ouija session and then an equally pointless game of boggle with the spirits where we had to make up our own answers the questions asked – Countdown style.  This was clearly open to abuse.

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What did you die of?…..

 

By this time, I’d pretty much had enough and it was 3am.  Time to set up camp – yes, this time it was a full sleepover.  Just time before bed to recreate the famous death scene shots of the Heaven’s Gate Suicide Cult evidence photosLike you do…

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I think we need to grow up and stop arsing about

I got about 2 hours sleep before we got turfed out and then spent the rest of Saturday feeling almost jetlagged. 

All in all I think the most entertaining things of the entire evening were us two. The rest of the group were nice and all but the spirits were nowhere to be seen or heard – I didn’t even get so much as a tingle of the old spider senses really and when I tingle, you know shit’s about to go down.

Doing it all again next Saturday at Armley Mills, where I’ve seen and heard strange shit in the daytime, so lights off should be a right scream.

Adios todas Xx

 

 

Still here, still smiling

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Week 4 in the Big Brother house and I haven’t hurt or killed anyone, or myself. Nor have I hidden in the toilets crying; unleashed a stream of profanities on anyone or barfed on the way to work.

So far so good.

One day at a time.

Meanwhile in the rest of the world news,  two political leaders with strange hair are having a cock-measuring contest with each other over Twitter causing me to lay awake at night wondering if I should start prepping. Panicking that my two camping stoves are currently in my sister’s shed in Manchester.

 

An online shop for water and tinned peaches, then converting the kitchen table into a Morrison Shelter could be the way forward.

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Extremists with no apparent agenda are trying to blow us up on public transport.  All they actually seemed to achieve though was that it’ll take more than a bucket of fairy lights in a Lidl bag to stop London from moving.

Hurricane season has washed or blown away several islands and displaced hundreds of people. Mexico has fallen down, and the world watched on all forms of media as they tried to rescue a child, who didn’t exist, from a collapsed school!

All is not totally lost though.  Contrary to what many people, including myself, first thought – ‘The Great British Bake Off‘ isn’t completely hideous now that Bezza, Mel & Sue have left.
It’s pudding week tonight so I am about to watch and play along as I pair up some cold milk with a packet of Instant Whip.

Piece of piss Paul Hollywood.

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Ciao Tutti Xx

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let’s go round again…

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Well it’s almost time to begin a new academic year.

It doesn’t seem that long since last September and the last academic year. But what a year it’s been.  Going in all cylinders blazing last September, ready to take on the system. Lead my new, (albeit smaller) but fabulous little team.  Ready to jump in at a moments notice to impart knowledge and wisdom with a smile and pocket full of amazing lesson plans.

Yeah. That lasted til Spring and then it all went west side.

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Patrick

Me, from March to June in my kitchen

 

Until recently when I no longer felt like that, I hadn’t really realised how low and off-kilter I actually felt.  Let’s not go there again if we can possibly help it.

My philosophy at this juncture can probably best be summed up by this meme:-

1g1u4s

Am I right?

🙂

There will always be plenty of people having a shittier day than you, which is crap (for them) but a silver lining on your own grey cloud. That’s as good as it’s probably going to get for most of us – and that’s okay.

So before I return to the coal face and my optimism and enthusiasm die a fiery death wane within weeks, I’d like to celebrate the great things that happened this year and the people who stopped me from totally losing my mind. The ones who sent me notes, hunted for spooks with me for fun; sent me memes, love tokens; not always helpful but somehow amusing texts; sent me jigsaws in the post. And thanks to my husband who, despite his usually unsympathetic nature and poor inference skills, managed to be kind, thoughtful and not get annoyed when I didn’t appear to have moved for hours.  Also my Childerbeast for not freaking out at their mother freaking out.

Naturally I have to summarise in pictorial form because , as my childerbeast told me recently, “Mum, you photograph everything”  Good job really. Then I can look back at images like these, on the days when everything seems pointless, and I’ll remember that it’s not.

In the words of my childerbeast…. “Blessed”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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So back to school tomorrow.  I am going in this year with no expectations. That way I can’t be disappointed or annoyed. I’ll go in. Do my thing. Hope for the best and then come home, sleep, then go back the next day and try again.

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Bring it on Booms!  We can do this.

 

And to end a perfect summer holiday of sun, treating myself to a new vacuum cleaner (small pleasures) visits with friends, festivalling, glitter and music – my parents dropped by today for an impromptu visit.

Good times.

😀

Life (today anyway) is good.  Not always. Not for everyone. But today, it’s alright for me & mine, & that’ll do.

Ciao MoFos

Xxxx

 

Farewell cruddy old bathroom.

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Our bathroom is getting refurbished. Stripped back to the brickwork. Hottest week of the year – what were we thinking?  Dust everywhere. No door. Toilet is at least still insitu but I have to say that the image of Bman sat butt naked on the loo, like a Bottecelli angel taking a shit, isn’t for everyone.  Am thinking of replacing the door with a string curtain made entirely from those air freshening Magic Trees you see in taxis.
It’s going to be a testing time for the next week but it’ll be worth it in the end. At least I’m not 7 months pregnant like last time it was done.  Had to go for a wee every 20 minutes in a bucket in the shed!  At one point, the door blew open and I was revealed in all my rotund splendour to the neighbours.!  Also a sight not to everyone’s tastes.

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     I’ve fired up the solar powered camping shower to hang from a tree in the garden but I can’t see the childerbeast going for it.  They may have to resort to using the bathrooms at school.  I’ve already warned my next door neighbour but one that I may be round on Friday morning for a shit and a shower.  Not sure that was what Brendon Cox had in mind for his concept of a neighbourly get together, but nothing breaks the ice like rocking up on the doorstep with a loo roll in one hand and a newspaper in the other, wearing nothing but a bath towel and a smile!

Ciao Ciao Xx

Love letter to my 1st born

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On this day 14 years ago, my first offspring appeared in the world. 3 weeks early, looking a little Simpsonesque with a yellowy tinge & still covered with a fine downy covering of hair all over her little body.

My mellow bird.

Rolo.

Little Hiccup

AKA The Bear.

A new chapter in my life had begun.  It wasn’t all breastfeeding in flowing dresses, sat in a sunny field of wheat.  I have been known to lose my fricking mind.  But I’ve never known love like it.  A mother’s love.

Rhotongue

Me & my girl – School Halloween disco circa 2013

Now taller than her (s)mother. She is a beautiful, intelligent, intellectual and artistically talented young lady, on the edge of becoming. So impressed with her artistic skills that I recently had one of her sketches permanently inked on my body.

Go forth and be fabulous my lovely.  Do your best at everything schmoobear.  Make good choices. Be honest. Be kind, and remember that there will be days when things don’t feel right, when you feel bad. But they won’t last.  And if your mama ever tells you that a man (or woman – whichever – we live in an inclusive society after all) is no good for you – please listen.

We love you more than you can possibly comprehend.

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🙂

Xx

 

Bring me sunshine

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Had a weird week where I hit a major low a couple of times.  Became obsessed with the idea that every time I had a massive dip in mood and self-worth (which is different to self esteem apparently), that some kind of horrendous disaster occurred to someone else.
I felt shit about myself – Manchester bombing.  Had another slump. – London stabbings. Last week, went to bed full of woe and gloom and self-depreciation for no apparent reason I could justify. Black dog snapping at my heels.  Boom! Grenfell Tower fire next day.
Began to feel like a harbinger of death, a bit like Richard Burton in ‘
The Medusa Touch’. Now I daren’t confess to feeling down in case it causes karma to slap me in the face with another horrifying news story of death and mindless waste of life.  Life shouting at me,  “BUCKLE UP FUCK NUGGET! SOME DAYS ARE A BIT WANK. DEAL WITH IT.  SHIT COULD BE WAY WORSE. LIKE FOR THESE POOR FUCKERS, CHECK IT OUT!”  Cue next news story of gloom, doom, hideous untimely death and sorrow.

Life can be a bit of a cunt at times (and depression lies!)

But life can also be beautiful. Kind. Loving. Funny. Worth it.

Today we had a very sunny family day in the garden for Father’s Day.  I swung in a hammock with a glass of Pimms and a new book, and life was good and I was glad to be alive.


And again this morning. 

🙂