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There is a Swansea

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In an effort to not get cabin fever on the second of my weekly days off and to allow the Bman to actually have his day off at home without anyone in the house – I went into Leeds today so he could yell at his laptop in peace.

Not Bradford.


Bright lights. Big City y’all! Oh yeah!


Going out! and not wearing trackydaks or swimmers!

En route, I spotted this locksmith’s van which deserves some snaps. Well done that man with a van.


 a carriage of no horse drawn – belching Satan’s black wind into our clean and local air

I survived the bus journey into town despite having forgotten my mp3 or any headphones so I could listen to music on my phone.  Took a while to eventually tune out the incessant babble of the teenage girls on the bus with their,”yeah but no but yeah but no. but he said right, and OMG I’m so small I can’t even fit in a size 6 in New Look yeah because I think I must be like a 4 or summink”

Oh boohoo adorable youthful thin person. That must be terrible.


Once in Leeds I ended up drifting into Forbidden Planet to check out their Funko pop Vinyl sale and was ridiculously thrilled to see the legendary Pixie the Adventure Puss in the actual flesh fur! What a beautifully coloured tortoise-shell she is too, and I commented such to her ‘dad’.
I can’t see our Alan Lickman going for it with the old getting walked on a harness though.



Or Pepper, who would probably collapse with fright like Mr Jelly when a leaf fell on his head.  She almost imploded with fear the time we drove her 2 streets away in the car to the cattery the other year when we went to Orlando.

On a whim, when realising how close I was to Pieminister, I went in to treat myself to a lone lunch.  ‘Chooks Away’ (vegan chicken) pie with mash, gravy and minted mushy peas with a pot of tea.
Read my book and watched the world go by along Boar Lane as I thought to myself,
 “This is awesome. I’m a very lucky girl” and I felt rather blessed. Such a northern bird – easily satisfied with a pie.



Yes of course I took a photo of my lunch. #pieminister

I was about to head home when my attention was grabbed by a window display of Halloween themed items in HomeSense.  Showing what I consider as remarkable restraint, I resisted the urge to make purchase of a £15 large snowglobe of stacked glittery pumpkins which, when wound up, played the tune of, “Ding Dong the witch is dead”.  Surely some sort of award should be presented to me for such willpower (possibly a £15 musical pumpkin snowglobe from HomeSense perhaps?)


Naturally I may have to go back into Leeds after Halloween to see if it has been reduced, because of course that kind of quality item isn’t just for Halloween y’all. Get that shit on display all year round!

Ciao Ciao Bitches 


come sisters, we fly!


That time I played bingo in a stinky cow shed

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Haven’t been feeling mentally great for a while. Don’t know why really.  Cancellations and overdue payments from some swim parents haven’t helped.  The state of the nation in general and the fact that my offspring are growing up & making me feel surplus to requirements, also not conducive to a happy mind.

So, a night out with my sister was in order.  Wasn’t sure what to expect and was slightly nervous, but last night we went to Bongo’s Bingo in Leeds.  It’s been a long while coming.  I’ve talked about going for years, since Jade first went in Manchester a very long time ago.
These days it’s on in cities all over the country, every weekend and sometimes during the week.  ‘Johnny Bingo’ must be sitting at home now in a bath of Buckfast laughing away as he checks his bank balance.


This was not your Saturday night session at Mecca with the jam making brigade that were the mainstay of my Pops’ working life in the bingo industry back in the day.

So Bman dropped us off at Canal Mills in Leeds which smelled a bit like a cow shed TBH.  We got a seat on the end of one of the many crammed-in long tables, because Jade said not to get stuck in the middle of them otherwise we’d have to clamber over everyone to go to the loo or the bar.  We’d paid £8 and this got us a book of 6 games to last the night.




There was a good 2 hours of drinking time before the first game began. Plenty of time for the 200+ Love Island posse to get fully tanked up and start dancing on the benches.  

It was compared by a lively DJ/Caller and ably assisted by glamorous helpers – i.e. 2 young men dressed as a slutty French maid and slutty nurse, who did a lot of dancing, occasionally stripped off inbetween displaying prizes and checking calls.

The prizes, none of which I won, but most of which I coveted, included a life size cardboard cut out of Ross from Friends (won by the boys on the table next to us). Bottles of spirits, cash prizes varying from £40 up to £500! Double ended dildos!! Inflatable Pokemon costumes, giant fluffy unicorns, Henry hoovers, karaoke machines and big boxes of coco pops for people to throw around.

There was much cheering and dancing when anyone won.  False calls greeted with jeering pointing and chants of “you fucking dickhead”.  The young girls next to us had no clue what they were doing and I kept having to explain how they could win.
Certain numbers involved dance interludes, but you had to be lively to get back in the game or you’d miss out on hearing/seeing the numbers come up.  TBH I’m amazed anyone won anything as the night went on and more alcohol was consumed.

Despite fierce concentration on our part, we didn’t win a thing. We needed my brother – he always wins when we play bingo at home with my Pops.  I think he would have enjoyed it actually.  




Not a place for the faint of heart (or liver) or if the prospect of an on stage ‘dance off’ in the event of a tied call fills you with fear.  Be prepared to join in or face sitting there covered in spilled wine and airborne coco pops.  Definitely worth a visit if you can get a ticket and just want to act daft for a couple of hours and may even, if you’re lucky, bag yourself a decent prize.


It made me feel better anyway and was just what I needed.  Let’s do it again sometime.

Ciao Ciao MoFos XX

Not sure what to call this one ….Part #2

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I’m watching the ‘Ted Bundy Tapes’ on Netflix, as I do like a serial killer story. Fascinating stuff from a psychological point of view.

“He was a polite man. Always so charismatic,  a  member of the church, he said hello to old ladies and put his bins out on time. Who would have thought that he was a homicidal sexual predator?”

Not to be confused with Al Bundy of course…



Meanwhile… the follow up to Bman’s night out almost beggars belief.

Strap yourselves in MoFos and keep all limbs inside the car at all times…



I get a text shortly after midnight 




I heard him come in this morning and he most considerately left me to it and slept on the sofa. When I got up to make the essential first coffee of the day, he was awake and tinkling on his phone, so I asked him how it had gone.

Here follows an approximation of that conversation. None of which is made up, exaggerated or embellished:-

Me:  “Good night then?

Bman:  “Wow you would have not been able to keep a straight face”

Me:  “I’ll bet”

Bman:  “The woman on the door asked me what colour wristband I wanted after I had to give my password” (not, I repeat, not, ‘Juliet Bravo’). LOL 


Me:  “What like?”

Bman:  “Green, Amber or Red”

Me:  “So Green for game, Amber for possibly. Red for back off – that type of shiz?”

Bman:  “Yup. Green was for ok to touch. Amber for thinking about it. Red for Keep the fuck away from me”

Me:  “Wow.  Good idea, we should use that in everyday life.  So what colour did you go for?”

Bman:  “Green”

Me:  “Did you?  Wow, get you!”

Bman:  “I didn’t want to look rude”

Me:  “No of course not” (sniggering)

Bman:  “There was this *dude there, fat like me but shorter. He had like leather belt things crossed over his naked chest – you would have laughed”.

Me:  “What like that dude on Star Wars who cries when that monster dies in Jedi?”

Bman: “A bit yeah…”


Bman:  “He said he was glad there was someone else there his age and I was like ‘Fuck Off man, I’m younger than you’.  There was also a table with 3 bottles of Rola Cola on it.  I did see the condoms but I didn’t take any.”

*Since then Bman has told me this guy’s name but barred me from writing it on here.

Me:  “OoooohKaaaaaay! So were there disableds there then ?”

Bman: “Oh yeah, I saw one guy in a wheelchair wanking this other guy off on the dance floor, just going for it, right there.”

Me:  “WHAT NOW?  Where was this place again?

Bman:  “Meanwood. I ripped my trousers on a door frame”

Me:  “I’m not surprised”

Bman:  “There were lots of lipstick lesbians going for it on the dance floor.  They kept touching me”

Me:  “Well that’s what you get for choosing a green wristband.  Define ‘going for it’ BTW. Enquiring minds need to know.

Bman:  “Dancing. Going for it. But feeling one another up and that”

Me:  ” Right OK. Touching you, you say?  Did they think you were a bird?”

Bman:  “NO!”

Me:  “You sure?”

Bman:  “Fuck off!

Bman:  “So I left and went to the garage to see if they had any tonic because there was none for sale at the small bar thing.  I knew I hadn’t taken enough booze. The Bucky on the bus hadn’t touched the sides”

Me:  “I hope you didn’t say anything about things not touching the sides in there did you?” (Now coughing with laughter). Also I think no tonic at the bar was the least of your worries.

Bman: “No! but then I sat with someone I knew in  like a store cupboard thing”

Me:  “I’ll bet you did”

Bman:  “There was this corridor with loads of doors off it”

Me:  “See” A sex party. I told you!”

Bman:  “I did try some of the doors but they were locked”

Me:  “Yeah, they saw you coming and locked them” (much chortling at this point)

Bman: “So I was talking to my mate in this store cupboard thing and then it was finished and the lights were on, so I went to find my coat but it wasn’t where I left it behind this speaker”

Me:  “Right”

Bman:  “So I said to the bird who’s organized it that some cunt has nicked my coat. But then I saw it on the floor just crumpled up like a carrier bag or something. It was all dirty and covered in like jizz or something”

Me:  “Jesus!  Someone used your coat as a bed”

Bman:  “It’s probably not. I think it might be chalk, it was white.”

Me:  “Throw it in the bin Brew. It’ll be jizz” (now almost choking with laughter).

Bman:  “My hat was in the pocket. I’d have been gutted if that was gone”

Me:  “Burn the coat and the hat Brew!”

Bman:  “When I left, the 72 bus was there at the bus station so I was made up. But then he shut the doors on me and drove off”

Me:  “I’m not surprised if he’d seen you in your crumpled jizz jacket”

Bman:  “So I ran up the Headrow to catch it at the next stop and I almost died, running and the cunt didn’t stop”

Me:  “I’m still not surprised. I’d have done the same”  (visions of Uncle Fester chasing a bus up the High Street at this point).

Bman:  “The music was really good though”

Me:  “Well, that’s the main thing eh?”

Bman:  “The night was called ‘Flesh Intentions’. I didn’t want to tell you in case you took the piss”

Me:  “Fooks Saaake. It was a sex party Brew.  A sex party for disabled overweight gay people and you were there. and you hid in a broom cupboard from lesbians”

Bman:  “I’m going to bed now.”

Me: “I would if I were you… but be sure to strip the bed later if you’ve not had a shower.”


True.  Fucking.  Story. People!


That time I got bummed down an alley in front of Steve Pemberton

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Firstborn had tickets for a gig at Chapel in Leeds on Saturday night. Me and ghostbusting mate offered to drop her and her pal off.  Website said doors open at 7pm, however, the ticket said 7:30pm.  We had one of those Escape Rooms booked for 7:15pm in Armley, so had to leave them both outside the venue. #parenting dilemmas

Abandoning two 15-year-old girls outside a club in the hub of studentville in Leeds on a Saturday during Freshers’ Week.  What could possibly go wrong here?

Coughing up £20 for soft drinks & merch I reluctantly left them there with strict instructions to ring me or her dad if it got shady or anything went tits up.

Never done an Escape Room before. Wasn’t sure what to expect so I just followed Linda’s lead as she’s done quite a few. It was a zombie apocalypse theme.  Lots of maths/algebra type problems to solve.  We did ok but spent too long flicking switches unnecessarily so we failed to get out within the 60 minutes.

Next it was time for the main event of the evening.  Stalking our comedy heroes. 
Having joked about going to the stage door at the end of the League of Gentlemen Live in Manchester, but not actually bothering. We then discovered that they did do stage door autograph signings, so decided to lurk about at the stage door at Leeds Arena where they were playing on Saturday.

And lurk about we did. Having chatted up one of the security birds outside, who could have been straight outta Vasey herself TBH, we were assured that they would be coming out but the show wasn’t due to finish until later than we thought.  Had a bit of another parenting dilemma, as we had to go and collect the offspring from the gig.  The fates were on our side though, the gods of stalking favoured us because the daughter’s gig was also running late. 

I had felt rather like a massive geek, hanging about to bother a bunch of professional actors. I also questioned the security of the situation.  We could have been anyone hanging over the railings with a handbag full of semtex and bulldog clips and a grudge or extremist religious view.

However once the genuine audience had left the building and some of them also made their way to the stage door, I felt slightly less of a spod.  Not compared to the Annie Wilkes posse behind us – “I’m your number 1 fan Mister Man!”  #slightlyscary

Quite a few fans had gathered at this stage but we were not going to relinquish our spot even if it meant getting dry-humped by a stranger.

There was a comedy ‘life imitating art’ moment with Ted Robbins when he came out and only about 2 people could remember his name. Bless him.


It’s a shit business

I learned that I look rather too manic in the picture with Steve Pemberton, who is, as we speak, probably filing a restraining order.  I discovered that Mark Gatiss and I look as though we may well be related (Cousin Gus is that you?) and that Reece Shearsmith is only my height. 



To everyone’s joy, Jeremy Dyson was there too.  We also, much to our amazement and amusement, learned that the anecdote that chap at the ASSAP seminar the other week told us about him helping break a naked Reece free from a locked hotel room, wasn’t a tall tale at all – that shit actually happened!  We know this because Linda asked the man himself and he confirmed it was true!  Blow me! I’m sorry I ever doubted you CJ. Not a crazy Alan Partridge type fan after all.  (And for the record, I passed on the message about you having some books for him).

Our brief brush with brilliance over and most definitely worth the wait (yup… I am a geek) we hustled uptown to collect the girls who were by now waiting outside the venue at 10:45 on a Saturday night in Leeds!   Finding them unscathed, sober, safe and un-molested we headed to the car and set off home after a weird but entertaining evening.

Not sure what we are going to get up to next although we are still hoping to urban explore (i.e. break into) the abandoned Camelot theme park.

Think the older I get in body, the more immature I get in mind and the more I want to do stupid stuff.

Live. Love, Laugh.





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

Another nail in the coffin of decent society

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Despite a Saturday where I floated aimlessly like a tumbleweed in the retail wasteland of Bradford city centre.  Pondering mournfully about how I had managed to (a) end up here at all (b) still be here & procreated in the process (c) done absolutely nothing useful with my life thus far (d) scared off every man I have ever had a relationship with by my general demeanour, propensity for melancholy & mannish features (f) emotionally scarred my own brother so much that he refuses to introduce his new girlfriend to me because (and I quote) “It’s too embarrassing”  – I did, as it goes, not have too bad a weekend.


I thought I was having some kind of aneurism on Saturday night when my head felt as though 1000 elastic bands were being wrapped around my brain from the inside of my skull.

Turns out I just needed a good nights sleep.  (Either that or the end is imminent and the aneurism is so far along now that I can’t feel a thing). 


Don’t think I offended or upset anyone at work today, which is always a bonus.
I then got home to the excitement of seeing that my new toy had arrived.  A beginners ukulele no less. Oh yes!

simple starter model

simple starter model


Joy turned to cries of “WTF?”  and “Holy shit why does everything I touch turn to crap?” when I removed it reverently from the box to find this…


a smidge too simple for my taste

a smidge too simple for my taste

You are not telling me that this instrument wasn’t already damaged before it got wrapped in bubble wrap and boxed up.  I’ve lost faith a little with the Post Office lately but really?  I think the blame with this lies in the hands of the supplier.

#FFS!  A replacement is on it’s way apparently.  Can’t wait to see what that looks like!

My iron decided to turn itself into a smoking gun on Sunday aswell while I was ironing Bman’s work shirt of course, which now has a beautiful brown collar.
So I’ve had to order another one.  After the last debacle barely a year ago when I bought a new iron, I dread to think how that will turn out.  Watch this space!

Customer Service is not what it used to be. If I was in UKIP I’d be blaming Gays or Asians for it but truth be told I think we are all to blame for being as crap as one another.

I’m telling you, standards began to slip with the ban on being able to tell kids off properly in school and when we stopped half day closing on Wednesdays.
Hats, stockings and ties that’s what we need to bring back – and for Christ’s sake stop going to the damn store in your PJs.

I’m going to have a gin and tonic now and raise a glass to that poor teacher who went to work after 40 years in the job and didn’t get home today.  A shocking Monday news story that touched me deeply because it’s local and not the kind of thing you expect in our line of work.  Another sign of the World we live in now and the one I am sometimes sorry I brought life into.  It’s come to something when teaching staff mentally (and in some places, literally) practice evacuation or lockdown drills for if some nutter decides to go Tonto. It’ll be Kevlar vests next.



Courses & how LCC employ zombies to do the cleaning

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 Been on 2 courses this week.  Only one of which I found particularly useful and that’s because it will eventually provide me  with HLTA status.  Yay!

Pity it took 2 hours to get there via pubic (typo intended) transport.  Quicker in fact to get to Manchester City Centre from where I live.

My old nemesis and I, the 508 – the number of the beast – we met again at 0735 on Thursday morning and will do again for the next few Thursdays leading up to Christmas.   When that bad boy has finished with me, I get spat out onto the Headrow after a riveting 60 minute journey through every last nook and cranny between here and Kirskstall and then have to get on another bus!

Big Boo hiss to the Reception lady at the centre I was headed to, who advised me to get the bus outside the Corn Exchange when she should have said to catch it at the bus stop opposite the Corn Exchange!  10 valuable minutes wasted there!  Eventually got on the correct bus and had that sickening feeling in my belly that I was going to be late on my first day and that I had absolutely no fricking idea where I was going. 

Winding through unfamiliar places made me feel like back in the old Backpacker days in Australia and New Zealand, wandering free, new places, exciting times, (OK so it was a Leeds No. 13 to Gledhow, but it’s the closest I’ll get these days).

So I arrived fashionably late by 10 minutes, shuffling in at the back hoping nobody would notice. 

At breaktime I noticed that my biscuit tasted rather odd and when I checked my phone for messages I realised that my emergency tube of Volterol for my backpain, had leaked in my bag, all over my phone and I had some on my fingers.  At least neither my phone, fingers or tongue  will be in any pain for a day or two.  FFS.  Dumbarse!

Journey home was nackering and just as long as on the way there, but this time I had the added cacophony of sound accompanying me, of dozens of teenage school girls,  Jeebus! the noise they make!.  Even with the old C3PO on full whack I couldn’t drown them out.

 Proper tired when I got home.

The saving grace of today’s course was that I didn’t have to go on my own and that I was with my bezzy mate, who as you can see was well up for a bit of practical P.E.

Am not playing!

I’m jumping ahead of myself though.  This pic was taken after we finally arrived.  Nothing more terrifying than a bit of a jolly round scenic Wortley to liven you up of a morning.  Or is there? 

Pulled up to park the car at the wrong centre.  Decided to park there anyway and walk up the road as very little parking space available where we were headed.  Seemed like a good idea until two extras from Shaun of the Dead Vs League of Gentlemen, clad in tabards,  lurched across the carpark at us, brandishing feather dusters.   One had the loping gait of the undead and a face like Quasimodo’s Nan and the other had that white, dried, foam mouthed appearance of a rabid animal or someone who forgot to check the mirror after they brushed their teeth (my money’s on the former). 

I fended her off with my water bottle hoping that her hydrophobia would startle them both away.    The sole reason I don’t have photographic evidence of these pair was that I was backing away at the time and trying to make discreet eye signals to my pal that she unlock the car pronto and we get the fuck outta dodge!

I’m sure they are lovely ladies and someone’s Mum/Nan/sister, yadayadayada, but fuck me,  were they scary!!

Ay up love. D’you know where you’re going?

My free breakfast, when we finally got to the right place,  consisted of a burnt crumpet and a thimble of coffee, with no break before lunch, despite it saying there was one on the itinerary.  This was never going to end well.

We zoned out as soon as we heard that there was to be team games and salsa (and not the sort that comes with a bowl of Doritos).  We felt like clawing at the fire exits for escape but we were trapped!

They made us do stuff!  On a P.E. course – Who’d have thought it?  My mate’s face at almost everything that was said today was an absolute picture. A picture in fact that would mostly be captioned with the words “What the frigging fuck?!”

Arse Up!

Up Yours!

Fortunately there is no photographic evidence of me rolling around on the floor with a bunch of total strangers, many of whom were men; all in a line like pencils trying to get a hula hoop to roll across our prone bodies.  Holy jesus!  WTF?  I had some personal space issues with that exercise let me tell you.

When faced with discussing the key features of the course and should any further equipment be required, I did mutter something along the lines of “perhaps a dictionary”. 

Dictionary anyone?

Not the most constructive use of the day but worth it for the laughs.  A lot of which were when a certain person’s Salsa dancing all went a bit Gavlar and Smithy once the arms were introduced:

Crackin! (up)

It wasn’t long after this that my pal and I were split into different groups – funnily enough…

Then sod me! when we were finally paroled, armed with our well-earned resources (which if they don’t get used, are going to get shoved unceremoniously up someone’s jacksie) if Dolly Duster of the Undead didn’t lurch out of the Library on our way out!

She’d followed me!

I practically sprinted out to the carpark before she caught up with me!

I’ll be needing a drink this weekend you can be sure of it, starting right now I think.