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Tag Archives: Morrison’s

and the rain slowly saps my life force away…

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We’ve gone from glorious late September sun, to utterly pissing it down and considering putting the heating on. I have felt my energy sapping today. Washed away down the drain like Georgie’s paper boat in ‘It’

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There goes my energies

Bring on Halloween.

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Today I have been mostly pondering how I managed to function in my former life on so little sleep.  I say little.  I slept enough back when I was working in school. But not to the extent that I do now that I don’t have to be at work at 8am. 
I get up to see that the Childerbeast have got up for school. I wave them off then lock the door behind them. I then slink back into bed for another couple of hours.  Yesterday, I didn’t. I stayed awake and got up and did stuff, and by the time it came to set off walking the 2 and half miles to work, I was like a zombie. I felt almost hungover.

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Think Keanu may be onto something…

Today I sat in the bus shelter at the top of the road, waiting for the Morrison’s shuttle bus. It was late. Of course.  This is what I do now, when I’m not sleeping or in the pool. I wait for buses that never come, whilst listening to the same music over and over again on my MP3. (I keep forgetting to add new tunes and CBA with Spotify because despite my playlists, it keeps throwing randomness into the mix that I can’t get rid of because I am a technodunce). I watched the rain pour down while I ran over imaginary scenarios in my head and mentally berated myself for things I did or didn’t say/ did or didn’t do, decades ago.

 

After trailing around Morrisons, buying foodstuffs I probably don’t need, I waited again for the return shuttle bus, whilst people watching and pondering my life choices.  It looked a bit like this…

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I considered, as I stood under the shelter awaiting yet another late bus, whether to turn away from the blonde barnet in my older age and have a go at red again. But then thought I would probably end up looking like Myrtle Snow from American Horror Story.

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Think I’ll stick with the blonde and eventually morph into some kind of Patsy Stone/Bubbles De Vere/Barbara Cartland character.

Right now the only reason I haven’t gone back to bed yet is because it’s Bake Off night so I’ll have to wait until 9 before crawling back into my pit.

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If you too managed to survive another day. Well done you.  Have a cuppa to celebrate then get yourself off to bed to the sanctuary of your duvet. Then we’ll do it all again tomorrow.

G’night MoFos Xx

Scruffy and I know it.

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This week Boris Johnson surpassed himself by using the phrased “spaffed up the wall” when describing money spent by police investigating historical child abuse cases.  A day when an Australian man shot and killed almost 50 Muslims at prayer in his attempt to halt immigration in Europe (hello Irony?) and an Australian senator essentially blamed the Muslims for their own deaths by saying “The real cause of bloodshed on New Zealand streets today is the immigration program which allowed Muslim fanatics to migrate to New Zealand in the first place.” – Riiight? Okaaaay.  

Can I get a For Fucks Sake!

 

So Bman and I watched Ed Stafford’s documentary about the homeless in Britain – ’60 Days on the Streets’.   Bman took great delight in pointing out that it had only been on 10 minutes and he’d already seen 3 homeless people wearing the same coat as mine.  It’s a good job I don’t give a fuck isn’t it really?  I seem to surround myself with piss-taking cunts.  I think it’s safe to say that I can give as good as I get though, if not better.  Anyway I love my Shadwell jacket it‘s a great coat – clearly favoured by the dispossessed and streetwise of the nation for its warmth and practicality.  

It did occur to me yesterday though that since leaving the education profession, I rarely have the opportunity to make a sartorial effort.  My poor husband only ever sees me in PJ’s, naked, or in my walking to work ensemble of trackies/Koolkids tee, hoody, and the trusty Shadwell.  Of those three outfits, obviously, the naked one is the most attractive.  Would be nice to make an effort sometime though, so he could see me with tidy hair, some make-up and a something slightly more feminine – a dress & heels maybe.
He did take me out for lunch on Thursday – at Morrisons cafe because he knows how to treat a lady – but it was before work so, no make-up, barnet all over the place, slackydaks and work tee shirt as standard!

Maybe I should get him to take me out somewhere (but not to a dodgy German techno sex party in a derelict building*).

🙂

*see these previous blog posts Bman’s dodgy night out

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There is some remaining glamour under there somewhere

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Workwear these days

,

 

 

You’ve got a friend in me

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I was contemplating my friends list yesterday. Not the Facebook friends list. Everyone on my FB friends list has merit, don’t get me wrong,  but sometimes I wonder if I would recognize them in the line at Morrisons or if they would know me. (I’m not always underwater for a start).

There are about 5 names I can list (but won’t) who I used to consider a really good friend.

But now…  not so much.

And I’m not even sure what happened.

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What did I do to have them blow me out like that?  I must’ve become boring, or annoying or hacked them off somehow.

Pardon about that.

Their loss though.

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Who wouldn’t want to be friends with this?

 

 

 

 

Sometimes it can be a bit weird, I won’t lie.  As the following screenshots from a messenger conversation last night will testify:-

It started with this newspaper article in yesterday’s Metro.

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 Poor Lennie Peters. Sod’s Law that he was bricked in his good eye!

😂
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Fairly standard TBH.

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Big-up to the crazy people who have stuck by me since the get-go and welcome aboard to all new passengers.  Buckle up MoFos and keep your limbs inside the vehicle at all times. To those who jumped ship – what’s up with that? Where did you go? You’re missing a trick. Come back aboard the love train. Unless you think you’re better than me, or I’m not good enough for you – in which case, fuck off then.

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Noice it’s unusual

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This is me time now.  Working a 12hr week has given me a lot more free time. I was dusting and rearranging my nik-naks at 8am this morning.

Had a bit of a Kath and Kim day today. Well, more of a Kath and Kel.  Bman and I went to have lunch in Morridogs together before floating round B&M to buy a bit of crap.  We then came home and he nodded off on the sofa, while I sorted out my file full of policy docs/bills etc and watched Netflix.

Kath and Kel

We might venture to the MacMillian Coffee Morning tomorrow at the school. It’ll be matching jumpers and speedwalking next.

KandK

SpunkRat and HornBag

 

Why would you not want a quad riding squirrel?

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I could happily plough on here about the ineptitude of my local supermarket and their unfailing ability to consistently mis-label items.
I could mention the new bathroom vanity mirror purchased last weekend with a crucial element missing from the box.
I could go on about their
“2 for £5” offers that are invariably not “2 for £5”.  I could tell you about having to return the incomplete mirror and having to ask to be reimbursed the difference for the “£2 for £5” items which I had actually been charged £6.50 for.
I could name and shame the employee at Customer Services who used a calculator (
I shit you not) to work out how much I should be refunded as he clacked away subtracting £5 from £6.50.
I could also tell you how, once I had a new mirror in hand and my £1.50 refund, I (foolishly) went into the store to make further purchase. I then ended up back at Customer Services 10 minutes later, getting another refund, after being overcharged for a pack of disposable razors because the till jockey
couldn’t “do itdespite it being her error…. 

                              but I won’t…

Instead I thought I’d talk about Collectaholics on BBC2 last night.
Not a show I would usually go for, but after receiving texts pretty much simultaneously from 2 different friends in 2 different areas of the country saying “BBC2 quick!” or words to that effect – I had to watch.
I was expecting something about deformities, weirdos who dress as badgers or old men who go on dates with donkeys or something – but no!  It was about a man who collects taxidermied animals and how this was becoming more fashionable again these days.

Right up my street.  My friends know me well.

To be honest, his collection, despite being vast, was a bit too sensible for me.  There wasn’t a winged rabbit to be seen or nearly enough alligators in waistcoats and jaunty hats.

Naturally this led to a conversation on the couch with Bman about what kind of amusing tableau we could create with the cats, once they have both slipped this mortal coil.  Some kind of battle scene to replicate how they usually spend their waking hours I think.  I’m seeing a Star Wars element here with light sabres and Jedi robes.  (BTW I love that spellcheck insisted I change jedi to a capital letter then).  Or maybe something with a fez and cravat and duelling pistols.

I will eat your face as you sleep!

I will eat your face as you sleep

I'm so daft I don't even know I have anything on my head.

I’m so daft I don’t even know I have anything on my head.

I already have Bman earmarked as a chest of drawers when he goes.  I’ll have him arranged in that daft stance he does when posing for pictures at famous landmarks or family gatherings.  I may even have some kind of motion sensor installed and have him pre-record some choice phrases to go off at will so nobody forgets him.
Fart noises  like an outboard motor starting up for example. Or stock Bman phrases like
“Did you have your glasses on when you washed up?”  “What are you doing it like that for?”  “HOW MUCH??” or  “Steady as a toad!”

I’ll have him in the hallway as a deterrent to burglars and hawkers like those cardboard policemen they have in the Pound Shop.

🙂

Naturally I then ended up looking ont’ Tintertube for courses in how to learn taxidermy.  (As you do).

£550 and there’s a bloody waiting list!


I then of course deferred to our old friend Captain eBay and found these choice items, just in time for Mother’s Day.  Indeed some of them even had such a recommendation on their listing
– “Unusual Mother’s Day Gift Idea”…..

Indeed!

3mice

Tentatively titled "The spirit of Tyersal"

Tentatively titled “The spirit of Tyersal”

post mostly comprising initials

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If there wasn’t enough reasons to avoid this series of books like the plague and avoid hurling oneself on the S&M, 3 for £10 at Morrison’s pseudoporn bandwagon.  I just read that JB may be getting involved in the film franchise.

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Foxtrot Foxtrot Sierra!  Noooooooooooooooo!   He’s only about 17 years old!

In other news.  Last night I dreamt that I was back at work at The Farm* (that one is for my readers who have been there from Day 1) and that a massive apocalyptic thunder and lightning storm was raging around Leeds and blowing all through the office.  Bman says I was curled up in a ball under the covers – that may explain why.  Unless I was channelling one of the beetles I also dreamt about later on that I’d found in my pyabs!  (Just for the record, I only dreamt that – I don’t really have any wee beasties in my bush).

Analyse THAT futhermucker!

 

Got paid yesterday and most of it has been eaten by overdraft already.  Summer holidays are a killer for spending cash you don’t actually have! 

I have now given up hope of ever seeing any of the PPI  I have been promised since fecking February when I applied for a refund from RBS.  At this rate I’ll be RIP well before I even hear whether or not I am to expect any.  Meanwhile, the World and his dog keep telling me stories of retail therapeutic joy, spending their PPI refunds on domestic appliances, pampering days and must-have gadgets.

I shall take to my bed with my dressing gown over my clothes now and wallow in my own self-pity until it’s time for Strictly and Doctor Who. 😦

I shall leave you with this picture which amused me on FB and I stole because I’m all out of my own ideas this weekend.

aint that the truth

* AKA.   B.N.I Insurance Brokers