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Cruises, complexes and castles

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Childerbeast had a few days at Ma B’s last week.  We took them last Tuesday & had a pleasant afternoon in the Homeland taking them for a cruise on  the Coronia.  I say ‘cruise’ but you can put all images of exotic coastal destinations, shuffleboard, onboard pools and dining with the Captain at an all you can eat buffet right out of your head.  This was an hour’s pootle towards Filey with a CD playing The Wurzles & half a coke & a packet of Salt & Vinegar brought to you by a ginger kid in what appeared to be a Scalby School uniform. 

Great stuff.  We loved it although the QE2 – it most certainly was not!

We then had a lukewarm meal at Ask where Bear showed great promise in following in my footsteps by proclaiming loudly to the waiter that her ice cream dessert was the warmest thing she’d eaten that evening.

High Five!

Bman & I then went home to spend a couple of days on our own where we did Fuck All… which was nice.

I got the train back to Boro on Friday to spend a weekend there and bring the childerbeast home.  I spent a couple of hours floating around the town when I arrived, on a mission to find something to buy to wear later that night as I planned to go out.  Appropriate attire for a woman in her early 40s who isn’t dead yet, not completely retarded nor on the game was somewhat hard to come by, so I settled for some new jeans.  Not that it mattered anyway as I didn’t go out in the finish.  I had something of a crisis of confidence verging almost on a panic attack & couldn’t deal with the idea of going out.  By 9pm I was asleep in front of a Garfield DVD with the childerbeast either side of me, cushioning me from the world.   “Hello? Is that the BiPolar Awareness Hotline!” 


We all went into town the next day.  Saturday afternoon in the Boro in high season.  You can’t make that kind of shit up.  Those people are real y’all & I fear many of them hail from this neck of the woods.  Wezzies on tour 2013.

My regret is not stopping to video the 2 elderly buskers playing the electronic keyboard, wearing Rasta hats from the joke shop whilst 3 long legged animal puppets gyrated in front of them to the music.
When I mentioned this to Bman later on the phone he suggested that had I gone out the night before to the ‘do’ I was meant to attend, then I may have seen things along the same vein.  If that was the case, I wish I’d gone now. 🙂

Sadly those buskers had gone by the time I passed that part of town again.  I did manage to get this guy though.

Welcome to Scarborough

Welcome to Scarborough

Dude may be a nutjob but thank Christ he put that possessive apostrophe in there for our pal Satan otherwise I’d have had to have words (and possibly share tips on cornering the market in tinned peaches and bottled water).
I also love the way he is standing directly in front of the tattoo stall.
I watched this guy for quite a while… dude never spoke, never moved, never altered his facial expression.  I only took the picture to try to provoke a reaction. 

Opted to not go out again Saturday night – inferiority complex/body-conscious/mentalness/being a dull fuck – call it what you will.  Tried unsuccessfully to put a FB message on pal’s timeline for her birthday the next day, having deleted FB from my mobile in an attempt to wean myself off the grid.   (I appreciate the irony of blogging about going off the grid.  It’s nosiness and paranoia that I will be forgotten  completely if I don’t at least keep the link to the Superhighway open that keeps me on the grid at all!)
Anyway Ma B’s netbook thingumy is as slow as I don’t know what. 

Could this BE any slower?

Could this BE any slower?

It would have been quicker to walk to Mark Zuckerberg’s house and ask him to do it on his laptop!  I managed it in the end but not without muchas silent cursing and profanity.

Status update failed - Please retry

Status update failed – Please retry

Spent the day in Helmsley yesterday wandering around the castle and looking in quaint little shops – which was a lot more of a fun day than it sounds as it goes.

Back in the Sadford today ready to spend some of the school holidays actually in my own house for a change.  Tomorrow I am going to see ‘The Conjouring’ with some friends.  I hope it’s decent.  Surely can’t be any worse that ‘Paranormal Activity’.  I get sucked in by the hype of all these horror films and always end up disappointed.

I’ll let you know…

PS:  Snaps to ‘Crinski’ & ‘Misty Blue’ for their advice vis-a-vis coping with necessary evil of having to go out in order to socialise… interesting that both of them independently suggested copious amounts of booze.  Xx

2013-08-11 12.23.37


snail mail & Collossus pictures courtesy of Google Images

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 – well 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




but does it come with it’s own wolf fleece cape?

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I like to have a browse at those innovations booklets or catalogues of crap that fall out of the TV guide or come through the postbox every now and then.    How else is a girl to find out about the joys of solar-powered parrots for the garden, shock absorbers for walking frames, glow-in-the dark Jesus statuettes or indeed discover the Wolf Fleece Cape of legend?

I have to admit to being slightly disturbed however by this page in Healthy Living magazine as I perused for potential Christmas giftage over my jacket potato at tea time today:-

Woah! hold the phone on item 3!

Am not sure at the logic of thinking that anyone who requires an adult bib should be allowed to take charge of a rampant rabbit, and I’m amused that such an item is being marketed as “a pleasurable way to relieve stress”. Almost in the style of those Victorian cures for “Hysteria” AKA “The disease of the mid-quarters from neck to knee”.

All better now dearie?

Are these essential items for life in some way linked in someone’s mind somewhere at Healthy Living?   Perhaps there’s some kind of two for one deal on the rabbit and the “magic gloves to cure hurting hands” (maybe the hands wouldn’t hurt as much if you switch from manual to the rabbit?)  I can see why the nail softener might fit into this equation but I need to know if the tights have extra room to accommodate the rabbit and where the hell does the salt come into all this?

 I shall leave a copy in the staff room and await with bated breath the Secret Santa gift exchange at the end of the Christmas term! *


 * provided we’re aren’t all living in my shed by then eating tinned peaches with Ken Barlow



and then Ken Barlow told me to store tinned peaches in my shed for a nuclear winter…

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… so it must be true.

OK so he doesn’t actually say the World will end or that we need to stockpile tinned items and bottled water, but the gist of it is there… and George Lucas is in on it too so that’s all the evidence I need!

Am not sure whether I fall into the camp of negative energy to be wiped out by an earthquake/ tsunami or other unspecified natural disaster, or I fall into the golden-aged loved-up camp.  I won’t lie to you that I’d rather be in Camp (B) than (A) but personally I don’t fancy my chances.

Am not sure whether or not to go along with the childerbeast’s inevitable, soon to be drafted Christmas list, as they flick through the Argos book, or to go all Sarah Connors on their asses & train them in mortal combat and show them how build a fire and open the tinned peaches with a Swiss Army Knife.

The end is surely nigh – Whales beaching themsleves in Scotland and even worse – our magical, witchcraft digital TV box has died!   We can watch TV on it but it refuses to record anything for longer than 4 minutes.  It lies to us and tells us it has recorded the whole programme but will only relinquish a tantalizing few minutes worth before it freezes and we have to turn the entire thing off at the mains.  We’re all doomed!

We may be forced to go old school and fire up the old Betamax!