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Tag Archives: Easter

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



Fun after dark & that time I was saved by lesbians

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Last weekend I spent Saturday night raking about in the dark at a medical museum in Leeds that used to be a workhouse back in the mists of time.

What energies could possibly be lurking about there then?

Imagine my geeky joy when the company running this after hours event uttered the magic words;

“Feel free to go off on your own, just as long as you let us know roughly where you’re headed”

Get in!!


So, a ghost hunt, in the dark; free reign to wander with my equally geekish pal, and it was in a museum full of bizarre medical implements with a buffet laid on to boot.

What is not to like there?   Cue such phrases as; “I’m quite partial to an iron lung”,Ooooh trepanning” and “let’s pretend we’re in an Isis video”.



That time I helped Karl Pilkington amputate a leg



That time we pretended to have been captured by Isis


Good times.

  The next day I took a wander up the road to the store.  When I got there I realized I didn’t have my phone. I thought perhaps I’d left it at home.  I retraced my steps anyway but no joy.  No luck at home either.  What a pain!  Rang the mobile company to suspend the account while youngest rang the phone just in case anyone had it.

They did!

She passes the phone to me and I hear a masculine voice say “Remember them two lesbians you passed on the bridge?”  I remembered passing two girls who looked as if they were doing the Sunday morning walk of shame home.  I wondered why this dude on the phone was bringing them up??

“Well that’s us”, says the ‘dude’.

Ah. Now I see.

It seemed they had seen me motor past them in a hurry.  My phone must’ve slipped from my hoodie pocket.  They saw it on the ground and picked it up.  Shouted me (but I had headphones on, lost in the Metallica zone).  They tried running after me, but both had massive chunky platform shoes on.  They couldn’t find me at B&M or Morries (because I was in Iceland) so when they got home they put an appeal out on FB to locate the phone owner.  Of course, I sacked FB off last year (very soul cleansing – I recommend it!)

Anyhow, seems they live down the road on the council estate so I said I’d go round and pick it up.
I made youngest come with me (eldest was out) just in case I got sex-trafficked (more likely she would TBH) or if they were homicidal lesbians, who lure victims to their killing lair by taking their phone hostage.

Turns out, they were good people.  There are actually some out there.  Who knew?
I gave them each an Easter egg as a thank you (had bought them for workmates – so pardon about that!)   I also offered them a tenner reward but they wouldn’t take it.

So, no need to get a new phone.  No need to get it blocked. And I got out of the ghetto down the road without too many shouts of “Hya Miss!”  Man am I glad I don’t live down there – for more reasons than just avoiding students I teach.

A good weekend indeed.


On half term now and thank fuck for it!  I was about at the end of my last nerve.  Definitely need two weeks off for Easter. 

 This is probably the best thing that will be on TV over the Easter weekend though.  They just don’t make shows like, ‘Easter with Liberace’ anymore…probably just as well.


Pretty sure this is where they got the idea for Donnie Darko

Ciao Ciao & be kind y’all.




48 hours

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Easter.  Been and gone. Wonder how long the eggs will linger?

Spent the weekend at Mum and Dad’s.  Spent silly money on haircuts for the childerbeast.  Could only have been more expensive if Vidal bloody Sassoon himself  had done it.  Had great evening on Sunday round at one of my bezzies, catching up and generally laughing a lot about oversized hands, a collection of  experimental decaying animals carcasses in the back yard and doing utterly *un-PC impressions of Joey Deacon.  (My friend just happened to have a printout of the following from Wiki.)

Blue Peter and cultural impact

In 1981, the last year of his life, Joey Deacon was featured on the children’s magazine programme Blue Peter for the International Year of the Disabled. He was presented as an example of a man who achieved a lot in spite of his disabilities. Despite the sensitive way in which Blue Peter covered his life, the impact was not as intended. The sights and sounds of Deacon’s distinctive speech and manner had a lasting impact on young viewers, who quickly learned to imitate them. His name and mannerisms quickly became a label of affectionate ridicule in school playgrounds across the country.[4][5]

To this day the term “Joey” is used as a relatively mild form of insult, in the category of “Mong” and the rather more offensive “Spaz”, accompanied by the gestures and mouth movements of the original Joey himself. Given the high proportion of 7 to 13 year-olds who watched Blue Peter in the early 1980s familiarity with Joey Deacon is surprisingly prevalent amongst a cohort which has now reached its early to mid-40s. However, amongst anyone outside that relatively narrow age band there can be total bewilderment as to the original inspiration for the Joey “brand” of humour and insult

*This was a cue for someone to google a picture and we came across this – which is decidedly even more un-PC .


So wrong.

Easter Monday I went to Northampton to spend a couple of days with one of my ‘oldest’ friends who, despite not managing to get me into a wetsuit, a cell, or shave my head –  did turn out to be a most generous host and foot warmer.  I think he took it easy on me to be fair to lull me into a false sense of security for my next visit.


I was introduced to some lovely people and also some who were slightly crackers.  We ate well & drank a fair amount and I feel I must leave the ghetto & revisit again soon.  I need more time without childerbeast. Time to be comfortable in my own silence. 

If you’re ever in Northampton you really need to eat at these two places Sol Y Luna & Pamukkale & go and look at the shoe museum, where they have one of Julie Goodyear’s original leopard print Bet Lynch shoes.  (I would be careful what cab you get into though, you never know what the driver may have had for supper!)



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.















They came. They Saw. (Let’s hope we conquered)

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Nothing will balls up your mid-week better than hearing that OFSTED are coming the following morning & that you are teaching Year 6 French & PSHCE!

Code word “Donkey in the car park” and Operation Don’t Panic were in full effect.  Cue much frantic photocopying and just a tiny bit more effort than usual being put into the lesson plan.

I won’t lie to you.   I didn’t sleep well Wednesday night, but I was fired up and ready to face the final curtain on Thursday afternoon.  Delivered a great lesson with kids all on task and shit hot on recalling least weeks stuff.  Some actual Year 6 level French and some fab Speaking & Listening, so where the hell were either of the OFSTED inspectors?    Nowhere near my classroom that’s where!


I should imagine rather a lot of wine may have been consumed over the weekend as the faculty relaxed with relief.  Also possibly to keep warm until the heating kicked in, what with yet another heavy fall of snow this weekend! 

Hello!  First day of Spring last week but nobody told the weather…

Elf times  with the snowballer

Elf times with the snowballer

This time next week I will be celebrating Easter at my folks & I hope it’s a damn sight warmer that it is today.