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Lethargy and Apathy. My two best mates.

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I took to hiding in bed this afternoon to escape the tumultuous noise of husband and offspring’s nerve-janglingly loud voices (and the fact that I felt weirdly unwell in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on).


Youngest Childerbeast came to snuggle with me then said she saw a grey mist move across my feet sticking out of the covers. She thought it might be the ghost of Gollum the cat, comforting me from the beyond.   I suspect it may have been the spectre of my long lost youth, health and enthusiasm for life – and even that wasn’t sticking around. It was heading for the window.*


Be so much simpler to be a cat – dead or otherwise.

Look at this little guy:-

Not a care in the world other than where to snooze or shit next!


* was more than likely a dust bunny


Images courtesy of Google images and Gary Larson


Comical Thursday and how I didn’t get a taco.

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Last week, a new shopping centre opened in Sadford town.  One that has been 10 years in the making.

People took off work to go to the opening.  I didn’t.  Mostly because I’ve seen a Debenhams before so I’m all good.   Then I heard that there was a Taco Bell in the food court and I was like “Woah. Hold the fookin phone.  This could be a gamechanger!”

Had I known that in advance, I might well have bunked off and been first in the line.

My daughter visited today, as her school was closed for one of its seemingly twice monthly Meet Your Coach Days (AKA parent/teaching meeting). 

She wasn’t that impressed.   Neither was I.  She didn’t bring me a taco.



Had quite a comical day today, where if the Benny Hill theme had been playing as I went from room to room, enveloped by mishaps, muddles and miscommunications, I honestly wouldn’t have been bloody surprised.  So today was a good day. It made me laugh (but probably shouldn’t have).

To complete the amusement of my day, I am now watching on Channel 4 catch-up – ‘My Psychic Life’.  If you can, then I urge you to watch it.  If only for the part where a lady talking to a little boy (who we can’t see) then gets up and tells him goodbye, turns away and her shopping bag smacks him where he face should’ve been.

Seemingly it’s also compulsory for all male psychic mediums to be as camp as a row of tents!

I only hope that tomorrow’s Goggleboxers watched the same show because I’d love to know what Scarlett would’ve made of it!

I think our house would be very entertaining if we were on Gogglebox. Although, last night Bman thought it hilarious to pull my pants down while I was washing up then pull my T-Shirt over my face & splash washing up suds on my norks!  At which point I did say (from inside my T shirt) “This is why we’re not on Gogglebox!” As he stood there laughing like a drain.




Nostalgia & not being dead yet.

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Friday morning on a PE course for work.  I missed my pal & fellow inset terrorist Gene Genie, but managed to still arse about & have a laugh (whilst obviously also learning a great deal for my professional development).

FYI .  Year 5 boss pal can’t handle partnering me for a mirrored balance routine without falling out of her balance for laughing.


Quick escape home at lunch for shit, shower & shave & then I was off to the train station for a visit ‘darn sarf’ to my old stomping ground of Bishop’s Stortford.

It’s been a loooong time. 

I have fond memories (& some not so much) but mostly good.  Excellent friendships were formed, as I was 12 when we moved there & that age from 12 to about 18 is a great one for all the crap you get up to and the things you try.
If you’re lucky you’ll stay friends with some of these people for the rest of your life.  Thanks to social media we can now stalk track down those who’ve dropped off the radar due to life in general or geography.  We can exclaim at their apparent success, lack of hair, brood of offspring, relocation to sunnier climes & the way they actually (despite a few extra creases) look exactly the same really.

I enjoyed the entire process of the visit immensely. The outbound journey – despite having to change trains 3 times.  Music on. Book in hand, or staring out the window watching the world go by. Thinking about the time I’d spent in Stortford aged 12 to 14 & also aged 18 in the summer of 1990.  A misspent time indeed. Consisting mostly of excessive drinking, riding in cars with boys; unrequited love & an unsuitable mini relationship with a boy we nicknamed ‘Grand National’ for reasons I’ll just let you speculate upon. 


Arrived at my destination at 6pm & immediately thought I’d got off at the wrong stop. I didn’t remember anything about the station at all.  There certainly hadn’t been a cinema & nightclub complex outside the station!  I took a leisurely stroll through town to my hotel, taking it all in.  Had a shiver of je ne sais quoi, when I passed Woolies.  Of course, not a Woolies anymore, but as good as.  Same shit different name.  The railings still outside that we’d casually lean on, trying to look cool in our 1980’s pastel wear.

Checked into The George Hotel hoping to meet some of the resident ghosts.  Instead I was met by a receptionist calling down from the top of the stairs; taking me my room across wonky floors with hallucination inducing carpet.  She then informed me that she had “just put some purple stuff down my loo so would go fetch a brush to give it a swill round” She did indeed give it a swill.  Told me that it wouldn’t come off and then asked if I preferred bourbons or custard creams.



The building across the road, once a ‘Spoils’ (for all your defective crockery, glassware & soft furnishing needs) was now a lively bar with rooftop terrace.  The furniture store where my folks bought their first proper suite (& won a set of Le Cruset cookware at a cheese & wine evening) was also a lively bar.  Would my old school friends have changed as much aswell?

Thankfully not.

Spent the weekend having a real catch-up.  Drinks.  Late dinners & chatty lunches.  Laughing about getting told off for stealing random objects from school.  Making animal-themed tat in metalwork.  About using a naked centerfold spread of Madonna in an English lesson & when a boy in my year found a picture of me (it absolutely wasn’t!) in his brother’s girly mag & brought it into school!!

Had a look round the old alma mater (now extortionately priced houses). It was most tranquil & so lovely to be back there with such genuinely good people.

Then & Now

Then & Now

Met up again in the evening at a pub I swore I had never drunk in before.  The moment I walked in, I felt a rush of something or other (& it wasn’t gin).  The old synapses started firing & I was like “Holy Shit! I have been here!”  Later in the evening, on a visit to the ladies, I had an acid flashback  as I remembered having been in there on a flying visit circa 1993 that I had totally forgotten about.

Hadn’t seen one friend for about 6 years since she paid us a visit in Sadford.  The other 2 I hadn’t seen for 30 years!!
It was so great that conversation flowed without being stilted.  Smiles &  laughs all round all weekend.  Sharing life stories so far & reminiscences – some that I recalled with vivid clarity but others I had no recollection of whatsoever!  All with a random backing track of a Ghostbusters theme/Wacko Jacko mash-up playing in the background.

Good to know that despite not being much to write home about, somewhere down the line I might have made some small but significant difference to someone.





One long lost mate was unable to join us.  Very busy working in Belgium (so he said).  Thank god for Whatsapp so we could taunt him that we’d been chatting up his son in the pub.  (We hadn’t really although if we’d found him, we totally would have).  He’ll have to come &  join us next time.  Suspect that it may get messier for round two.  Not waiting another 30 years though.  A bunch of 70-odd year olds out on the piss is not a good look.





Just remembered the part about my friend’s mum saying that our hotel was rumoured to be a knocking shop!

As I leaned out the window on Saturday morning in my towel, I was slightly concerned that there seemed to be a bit of a queue forming below my window. I needn’t have worried. Obviously it was for the mobile fish van that had set up over the road.


 So no extra beer money to be earned after all. (Insert own kipper or salty clam joke here..)



Can the Hulk get a suntan? Enquiring minds want to know.

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Went to see ‘Pan’ at the cinema yesterday with the childerbeast.  Great film.  The story of where Peter Pan came from.  Possibly the first time I’ve heard a Nirvana track used in a family movie if I’m honest.  It worked well though.

I had an unusual experience in the cinema.  Stroked down the arm and across the lap by someone who wasn’t there – not in physical form anyway!  My eldest also said she felt like something very cold was sat on her knees.  This is the second time in that cinema something like that has happened.  Last time it was whispering in my ear.

In fairness, If I was floating about in the nether after my demise, why not hang around in the cinema and watch movies for free. You could totally screw with people watching shit like Paranormal Activity 5 (or whatever number they’re on now). 


I totally misheard my youngest commenting that there was a new Paranormal Activity film out.  What I heard was “Look Mum, Paranormal Nativity”.

Now you’re talking – I’d definitely give that a look.


Last week at work I reared my great big swede a little too far above the radar, so I need to go back to being a bottom-crawling submariner and keep my bolshy gob shut.


This morning me and the Bman are mostly loafing about watching old episodes of The Incredible Hulk on the Horror Channel and pondering whether the Hulk would change colour if he sunbathed.  Would he go darker green or paler?  

That’s just how we roll on a Sunday at our house.