I have had this blog for almost a year now and guess what? I still don’t know my way around it without causing the occasional blip! This will come as little, or no surprise, to those of you who know me. I regularly send almost finished blogs winging freely into the ether, and try as I may, and I really do try, I can’t find the buggers anywhere. I mean, isn’t that what the ‘draft’ folder is for? Doesn’t that catch my ramblings before they fly? Apparently not because I’ve yet to find one in there. It usually happens when I get carried away with my own enthusiasm and my fingers can’t keep up with my brain, and then, of their own accord, they whack the wrong key and – hello, blank screen! However, as usual, I am digressing …
What I meant to say was, if a comment ends up in my spam folder it gets deleted, instantly, and without much question or remorse but today there appeared to be rather a lot of comments in there and so I worked my way down them and two or three looked very non spam, so I thought I would just delete the spam looking ones and delve a little deeper into the others. That’s when the brain and fingers stopped talking to each other and I deleted them all!
Sooo if anyone legitimately commented and it ended up in the spam bin please forgive me for deleting you and consequently for not replying. You can try again, if you feel up to it. I’m not a div everyday!
That is one great mystery of life. Yesterday I came across another. If you remember, some weeks ago I lost a bra. I gently asked Richard if he had it, by accident, in his underwear basket. I’m broad-minded and was OK with it, as long as he gave it back. He said he didn’t have it and I had no reason not to believe him (?!!) The said bra has not turned up, so whilst I was taking a couple of things back to Next (yes, I know I said everything from their sale was fine but I changed my mind) I popped into the underwear section in Marks. I contemplated a sports bra. Well, why not? I walk sometimes. And I have been known to trot down the ‘short-dated, bargains section’ in Tesco. No use being proud. I find loads of almost out-of-date flesh for Richard. It’s fine. It barely smells and if you are going to eat animals I reckon you have to take your chances? I’m joking! I only pick up pizzas and sausages for him. He never eats anything else. Well, no, that’s not strictly true – he nicks my veggie stuff!
Sorry. Where was I? Oh yeah, Marks. I couldn’t remember what size bra I needed. I fluctuate. No I don’t. I just get bigger. It’s my genes. As I say, I couldn’t remember the size so I took several sizes of lovely looking sports bras into the changing room, following the assistant obediently and exchanging smiles and promising to ring the God-damn buzzer if I needed any help. It was early and I’m always very polite and jolly first thing because Richard is at work and hasn’t had the opportunity to wind me up.
I stripped off and slipped into the first bra. It reminded me of our coal man, shuffling up the path with a sack of coal on each shoulder. I tried on the next size and it was better so I had a bit of a bounce on the spot, ( imitating jogging you understand?) and almost knocked myself out! Sports bra!! Huh? What sport could I have played in that? Dominoes?
I lied to the assistant and said one of them was perfect and that I’d take it. They don’t look at you very nicely if you just bung bras and empty boxes at them and leave without a purchase. I hung it back up and bought a thermal vest instead – far more me. Well lets admit it, there’s a very slim chance that I’ll be playing squash or jogging, and there’s every chance that I’ll be bloody cold in this fridge-of-a-house. We have already starting lighting the wood burner at night because Chea is cold.
Right! Off to do the chucks…whom by the way are turning into two delinquents. Little, in her frenzy to nick my malted milk biscuit yesterday, knocked my hot mug of tea all over her feet, and didn’t seem to notice, being 100% focused on running up my body, perching on my arm and snatching the biscuit as it was about to pass from my hand to my mouth. This jealousy annoyed Flight who chased Little up the garden until she collided with the fence and then nicked the biscuit. Think I’ll eat today’s quota of malted milks before I go out there!
Have a super-duper weekend.
Take care my lovelies x