Would I Lie To You Honey… Er…Yep!


Hi All

I have always been of the opinion that timing is everything, and I don’t mean in some weird or rude way. I mean…if you judge the ‘atmosphere’ and the ‘feel’ of a situation your requests are usually granted. Richard has not learnt this.

He walked in from work at 2.00 pm, and verbally ploughed straight in, while I stood at the kitchen sink washing my mobile that had fallen out of my top pocket and into my home-made, butternut squash and chilli soup. This was not a good time. The timing was wrong!

“Could you do me a favour,” he said, not even bothering to ask why I was washing my mobile.

“Bit busy,” I hissed.

“You know my BMW (motorbike) I need to take it to have it serviced and I wondered if -”

“Yes!” I cut in.

“If you would – ”

“Follow you halfway round the country and bring you back.”

“Yeah…and then – ”

“Yes!” I cut in again. “Take you back to pick it up.”

“Oh great.”

He glanced at the mobile and left the kitchen.

Ten minutes later and he was back. I now had the sim card out of my mobile and trying to dry it.

“Do you think if I set the satnav you could find your own way there and then I could scoot on ahead and have a chat with the bloke.”

See! Pushing his luck. Timing so wrong. I rammed the sim card in and pinned him straight between the eyes.

“I think if you “scoot” on ahead you can sodding well “scoot” to the taxi rank and get one home!”

“Oh…OK…well I’ll just follow you then.”

“Probably best if I follow you, seeing as it’s you who knows where he’s going?”

“Ah, yes,” he said frowning. “Why is your mobile orange?”

I can’t tell you my comment.

We set off Friday, Richard in front on his bike, me following in the car. Three minutes on the M1 and a motorbike overtook me, and then another, and then another, all pulling in front of the car…. The tenth bike rode at the side of me for a bit, the rider glancing over, winking and giving a thumbs up. I noticed he was riding one of those Harley things… with the handlebars three feet above his head. He brummed off and joined the other nine bikes ahead of me… and behind Richard. Obviously it was one of those motorbike-club things. Probably on their way up to Matlock, where they all park in the main street and stand around in biking leathers comparing dip sticks or something?

Others followed and I found myself and my little WV UP part of a convoy, racing up the M1. Richard meanwhile, was like the proverbial pig in clover, riding ahead of the group like Champion The Frigging Wonder Horse, leading his herd of mavericks across the Texas plains. I don’t know if they have mavericks in Texas, but it was my vision and I am allowed to visualise my vision my way.

I didn’t have the slightest idea where I was going, but there was a motorbike in front (15 in fact) so I just followed the convoy. Eventually, the entourage left-wheeled off the motorway and I followed.  Up ahead I could see Richard had pulled over and his little herd of scabby ponies galloped off towards the distant horizon, each biker nodding at him as they passed. God! You would have thought that he was Moses leading his people to the Promised Land, the Ten Commandments tucked firmly into his panniers. I pulled up behind him and he was grinning from ear to ear.

‘Did you see that lot?’ he muffled from under his helmet.

‘No, Richard, I didn’t see fifteen sound-barrier-splitting bikes go past me! Of course I did you idiot!’ He likes being called an idiot. He considers it a term of endearment.

‘Ah, OK, I bet they were going to Matlock to…’

‘Yes, I know why they were going to Matlock, Richard, so that they could play bikes and compare the ideal depth of tyre treads!’

He scurried back on board his hot machine and slowly pulled away. He knows when he’s beaten.

The following day we repeated the journey, but without the Hell’s Angel convoy. I’d asked Richard if he was sure that the bike would be ready. He said it would. I said I thought he should ring to check. He said it would be ready. When we got there the motorbike guru was still working on it. It wasn’t ready. Richard shuffled up to the car and announced sheepishly that it would be a while yet and did I want to wait or attempt to find my own way home…

Having refused to listen to all his attempts at telling me how to access the M1 from the middle of nowhere, I bid him farewell, and took off. How hard could it be? I was north, I needed the M1 south.

It was incredibly hard finding the M1! Road works, idiots pulling in front of me, and all that stuff, made it very difficult to follow the painted bits on the road and the overhead thingy’s, but I did, and I made it home alive… with  tachycardia and fifty more worry lines across my forehead. There was a point at which I thought I’d made a horrendous boo boo and was actually heading north to Scotland! That would mean a quick exit off the M1 and a hundred mile trip across country to get back…and it was already chicken-corning time!

When Richard finally arrived back, I was slobbed-out on the sofa, watching The Chase, and looking cool. He tested the atmosphere with a nervous grin and said, ‘OK? Any problems?’

‘No, none,’ I said, returning his smile.

He stood for a minute or two, leaning on the door frame, and I could see the admiration all over his face.

‘You know… you make out you can’t find your own way, and then you access the M1 from that point… which, by the way, is really difficult with all those road works and lane changes. You’re not really incompetent at all, are you. It’s just an act.’


Twenty-two-ish years it’s taken him to realise that. What a plonker!Bike travel


Take care my lovelies x


And The Most Fun We Had At Granny’s, Was…?

Hi All

I sat down to write this – and then the sun came out. Immediately, I could hear my garden calling to me, “Come… come…come and potter”… and so I did.

I find the call of the April garden impossible to ignore, and besides…I had a mission.

I’d promised the grand children Jake (7) and Grace (almost 3) that I would find a ‘spare’ spot where they could have their own little garden, and so, I found some wood, nails and a hammer, and made a small raised-bed area. Then I made a plaque for the fence and wrote on it, ‘Jake and Grace’s Garden.’2014-04-21 13.33.33

When they arrived for their sleepover I excitedly showed them what I’d prepared. It went down very well.

Jake painted some flowers and a carrot on the plaque and I painted a snail. This of course had Jake in hysterics because it looked like a tortoise with a walnut on its back. And apparently I’d given it two pairs of eyes. We let the plaque dry while we dug over the soil in the raised bed. There were one or two lumpy bits that I managed to recognise as Chea pooh and scooped them up before any harm was done. I threw them over the back fence into the field. Dog walkers use it but I didn’t hear any alarm cries so I don’t think I blindsided anyone.

With the knowledge that Chea would most certainly be back to use their garden as a litter tray, I found a wire frame and laid that on the top. Then all that was needed was the planting up. They each planted a potato and a cabbage plant. Then they set 3 runner beans, and labelled everything up, Jake in charge of the marker pen. The watering was a highlight for them. Grace watered my wellies and Jake watered Grace.

After this we decided to make a swing and put it in the old apple tree. Richard was cajoled into parting with his ‘special’ blue rope and set the task of finding a suitable piece of wood that we could use for a seat. There was a bit of pushing and shoving over who was going to have the first go and the honour went to Grace. Then Jake had a go.2014-04-21 13.39.42

Around tea time Richard set up the small gas BBQ. It was his job to cook the sausages. I prepared the rest of the stuff in the kitchen. Ten minutes into ‘sausage cooking time’ Richard, Grace and Jake traipsed in and announced that the BBQ wasn’t working, so the sausages went into a frying pan. They all toddled off and came back 5 minutes later to say the BBQ WAS now working. The sausages went back up the garden. Ten minutes later, Richard, Grace, Jake and the sausages came back…the BBQ definitely wasn’t working. It appeared that Richard had set it up wrong and melted it! This is the second BBQ that Richard has melted, but fortunately for him little ears were present and so he got off with a withering glare and a mouthed ‘Idiot!’ Richard is a hero…as far as Grace is concerned, and I figure she will have many opportunities, during her life, to have her little bubble burst regarding men and the expectations of the male gender in general? (sorry guys!)

They fell into bed exhausted and happy. I just fell into bed. I was too exhausted to know if I was happy or not! I think I was…but I couldn’t be sure. It’s hard work entertaining ‘little people.’

They didn’t sleep too well and one or the other woke on the hour every hour, so I basically didn’t sleep. At 5.30 I heard their little chatter.

“Let’s go and find grandma,’ Jake said.

“Gan gan?’ Grace said.

“Yes, let’s get pancakes.”

Pancakes? This needed chopping in the bud. No nipping here! Chopping was required! I wasn’t rigging up the Kitchen Aid at 5.30 on a Sunday morning!

“Jake! Grace! Come into me, it’s way too early to get up yet.”

The door creaked open and two sleep-eyed little people stood there. Grace had her rabbit by the ears.

“C’mon, jump in with me for a bit…but be quiet.”

Telling children to be quiet is like telling the dawn not to break. Unfortunately, the new people next door had chosen to move in on the day that Jake and Grace spent with us and they were about to be woken on their first morning (Sunday morning) at 5.30 by screaming children. As they snuggled in I said we would have a game of whispering and that I would tell them a story. This went down quite well, except that the story was rather funny and they bounced up and down on the bed laughing and squealing. I decided to discuss the previous day with them.

“So,’ I said, “tell me this. What have you liked best about spending time here?”

“Gardening!” Jake yelled.

“Gardening. Good. But we were in the garden a long time, what part did you like the best?”

Without missing a beat Jake yelled, “When you threw Chea’s cat pooh over the fence!”

“Is that it?” I said, trying not to laugh. “You’ve been here all this time and you’ve done all those things and the best thing you can think of is grandma throwing cat pooh over the fence?”

You couldn’t make it up. I mean. Constructing a garden. Planting seeds. Painting a plaque. Making a swing. Having a BBQ (almost), and all I really had to do to entertain them and remain a ‘way-out-best-grannie-in-the-world’ was to launch cat pooh over the fence.

I’ll bear it in mind for the next time.

Take care my lovelies x2014-04-21 13.33.00






How refreshing…NOT!

Hi All

I have to confess to having totally, and without a doubt,  recently screwed-up my computer.

One or two little things were starting to niggle me – they weren’t where they were supposed to be, or were taking much longer to load – so in my infinite wisdom I started looking for that bit where you send your computer back, to a place and space in time, to where it was working perfectly. Because this is a Windows 8 operating system, most of the ‘techno’ stuff is a tad alien to me, simply because I spend my time polishing and perfecting the bits on the computer that I DO use, and I rarely spend time figuring out the bits that I DON’T use. There’s only so much time in a day, hey?

I couldn’t find what I was looking for – but I did find ‘refresh.’ This sounded OK. A bit spring-cleaning ish? Refresh! Yes. That would do nicely. I could imagine it – everything back to how it was – fast, furious and in the right place, all open to my usual abuse. I pressed the button and away we went.

An hour later and I was unimpressed to find that all the little Word logos had disappeared from my Word docs’ and not one could be opened, because I no longer had Office installed on the computer. Yes, I know, you are shaking your heads and thinking what an idiot, and I confess, I was, and I am.

I wasn’t too much of an idiot though to realise that I’d reset my computer to factory settings and that half of my stuff had hit the ether with a loud hiss.

No worries, I had a product code for Office, I’d simply reload it. Easy. Not rocket science. Unfortunately it wouldn’t let me do it, chucking out the code and showing utter revulsion to my Microsoft account.

I battled with it for hours and then I did my usual thing – grovelled to my brother, telling him I’d cocked-up mega, that I was an idiot (I work on the principle that if I get the confession in first it saves time) and that I needed him to come over and sort it out for me.

I’ll cut a long story short by saying it took several attempts, with my brother coming to me, and me going to my brother, and a discussion with my nephew (a computer wizard) to get it back. But back it is, and not only that, I’ve got a much higher spec’ version.

The problem was that Office had been installed by the supplier of the computer and not registered directly with Microsoft, so Microsoft didn’t recognise either the product code or my account. At least this is what I’ve been told and frankly I’m not arguing the toss. I could have phoned Microsoft but resented the charge of the phone call. I did ask Richard’s opinion at one stage to be met with his stock reply of, ‘Don’t ask me. I know nothing about computers.’

This is true.

I love my brother. There I’ve said it. He is always there for me in my times of trouble and idiotic behaviour. It is down to him that I have a single hair left on my head. I often have to wait for his schedule to get around to sorting out his div of a sister, but he always turns up, eventually – and anyway, it could be ME doing HIM the favour. Isn’t it nice to be needed? And I always give him some fresh chucks’ eggs. I certainly wouldn’t give their precious eggs to just anyone.

I won’t be refreshing my computer again. It can grow mould and self-decorate in spiders’ webs for all I care. Besides, I’ve now been informed of what I SHOULD have done.
2014-04-11 08.42.27

Take care all x




Breaking Bad…It Can Seriously Damage Your Outlook

Hi All

I haven’t been here for a while, due purely to the fact that I’ve had to attempt to get these migraines under control. Another visit to the doctor, another type of drug, another bad reaction and then a rather ‘out there – random,’ decision from me. I decided to stop ALL medication and get the shit (sorry, but I’m sure I’m full of it – no comment please!) out of my system. I have been without drugs now for over two weeks and I’ve had one, one-day migraine so far. I’m addressing diet, time spent on the computer and various other things and at last my brain is beginning to respond to the lack of shit coursing through my system. I may be entirely on the wrong track but, at the moment, I am feeling better and the option of ‘medication’ is always there if I should need to go back to that situation. So…moving on…

I recently had my attention drawn to the US series, Breaking Break. My son suggested that I try it, and to be honest, after the first five minutes, I turned it off deciding that it wasn’t for me. Wrong! I later went back to it and that, as they say, was that. I was hooked and dropped into the keep net. I have 2 episodes left to watch and then I’m sure that I shall suffer withdrawal effects. However, it HAS had one negative effect on me…
Yesterday, in Morrison’s, whilst waiting to buy the winning lottery ticket (?) I couldn’t help but ‘listen in’ to the conversation between the sales assistant and the two men on my side of the counter. One was a young lad and the other was an older man – short, plump, suited and booted, and speaking with an Italian accent. At least, I think it was an Italian accent, you know me, the extent of my global travel runs out at Jersey, France and Spain. Anyway, I was listening to him and the thought crossed my mind that he was a drug baron, like the very scary people who Walt, in Breaking Bad, mixed with. He was very jolly – the drug baron not Walt – but I felt this overwhelming desire to slide further along the counter and to keep my eyes well forward. I did risk a quick glance when I thought his attention was on the sales assistant…and he was looking straight at me! I grinned, well, better to go down smiling, and he winked! I hurriedly started rearranging the leaks and Chea’s crunchies that had spilled out of the carrier bag, and pretended to be engrossed. I heard him say, ‘Yes, well that’s what my first wife said!’
That confirmed it for me. He was a drug baron and he’d killed his first wife. Bloody hell, how many other wives had he had? I felt a cool breeze as he walked past me and left through the automatic doors. The sales assistant was still smiling from his quick wit and humorous repertoire as she took my money. ‘Oh God,’ I said, do you think he was a Mafia boss or something?’ She frowned a bit and handed me my winning lottery ticket. I continued, ‘And what do you think happened to his first wife?’ She said something like, ‘Oh yeah.’ Obviously she’d been sworn to secrecy and threatened that something bad would happen if she discussed it further. For her own safety I said no more.
Once home I made the leeks into a lovely potato and leek soup. I’d never made it before but we bought a sack of potatoes from the garden center the other week and so I’ve been dreaming up, any, and every idea as to how to use up the glut before they turn green and start chitting. I think I must have had my head elsewhere as I dragged the blender from the cupboard and started to blend the soup, because with horror, I suddenly realised that I’d left the bouquet garni in it – you know, the little paper bag of herbs? I had a fish around for it but alas, it had gone.
Dilemma. Throw away 4 pints of beautiful soup? Eat it – paper and all?
I decided that it could do no harm to eat it so, when Richard came home, I announced that there was some lovely soup and crusty bread for tea. As usual he poured a huge bowl full and sat down in front of the TV to watch the news and eat his delightful soup. After a few mouthfuls, which I watched from under my fringe, whilst flitting through FB, I said, ‘How is it?’
‘Lovely,’ he said.
‘Good.’ I said.
‘What are these crunchie bits that I keep getting?’ he said.
‘Celery?’ I suggested. ‘It WAS a bit stringy.’
‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘It’s a bit like…gritty?’
‘Herbs?’ I offered.
‘It’s like…er…crunchy…like sand.’
‘Oh! That’ll be the paper bag that I blended in with it!’
He looked up, laughed, and took another spoonful.
Richard loves my sense of humour. Funny how when you tell some people the truth they prefer to think it’s a lie?
I blame it all on Breaking Bad. It’s unnerved me…and also…made me a little devious?IF
Take care my lovelies x