Happy New Year Everyone

The washing machine is on my Bastard List. Why is a wash cycle taking twice its time? Theres nothing more scary than an out-of-control washing machine, except perhaps a zombie or something.



Four quid a week we pay those cowboys to rent this thing. Am I going to let them have it! And as for bloody Laurel and Hardy who plumbed it in ("we didn't bring an instruction mannual") - to think i offered them a cup of tea!



My bad tempered state is nothing to do with me biting a hot mince pie and getting severe toothache . It really isn't. Or the stinking cold i woke up with today. Its quite irrelevent, it really is.

Christmas was super actually. Despite my gloomy disposition. The kids got fantastic presents, WE got fantastic presents, even the Cat got a good one! What i've always secretly wanted tho' is -
a) 200 fags
b) Bailey's
c) Ferro Rocher

I know these are not impossible things but i never get them somehow. Is it so very wrong to hope?

This is a funny time, these in-between days at the last lag of December. The Christmas tree looks a little dusty now and your stomach hangs over your belt from all those chocolates. And your Husband gets on your nerves! He goes to work tomorrow - hooray! I expect he's cheering too in the next room.

On Saturday, took Daughter to the Harrods Sale. Don't ask me why. I don't know what possessed me to go. And the ground floor was brimming with people clutching moutains of boxes that looked a bit dodgy health and safety wise. but we went one floor up to the most unpopular department of all - the Ladies Plus Size bit. Didn't find what i wanted and i got bullied by this glamorous looking girl into buying these Caroline Charles trousers reduced to 50 quid. Why did i get them? This always happens to me in sales. I never get anything i remotely want.

Well, they're a nice colour but when i take them home, i find they are 100% silk. Well, thats no good to me. I can't slob about in Tescos or anywhere in bloody silk trousers can I ! I also have nothing to go with them. Will post a photo of them.

Today, to overcome my washing machine "issues" we went to Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. (There I am again! In bloody Central London! Why do I keep coming here!). It was a nice German market thing, if a little expensive. But I have to say, the ice rink was really big and impressive. The kids and Husband skated, I didn't. Had a coffee and a fag.

So £43 later , we came out and I went home to bed. I mean really, between Caroline Charles and those bullying Germans, I was cleaned out. That reminds me, i've got work tomorrow - after i've let the washing machine people have it of course. Bastards.

Happy Christmas Everyone

The Nitty Gritty

And now, 12 days before Christmas, we really get to the nitty gritty. The cut throat time. Ears burning from ringing Argos and Tesco Direct. No Nintendos. Husband did this last year. Left the Nintendo Wii until the last minute, luckily Amazon got one in stock at the last minute. And now He's also just sat on his arse until i asked him when the Nintendos were arriving. They're not apparently. The stupid daft sod. They were the kids' main christmas present - what are they going to have now?

When He was a child, Husband told me, He got one present and a selection box. Well, thats a surprise, I told him, with a tight-arsed family like yours! How he laughed.

The trouble is, I didn't. I got everything as a kid at Christmas. Sindy dolls, crying dolls, scooters - the lot! We must have been the poorest family on our council estate but at Christmas we went mad! But I think thats a really working class thing. Not restrained like Husband's penny-pinching, comfortable middle class family. But they were good toys then. None of that technical shit like Nintendos or anything. I've still got most of my Sindy stuff today.

I remember that terrible Tellytubby war when Daughter was a toddler. People would apparently stand around in Argos until the Tellytubby arrival was announced. And then it was one per customer. But I wasn't savvy enough about all that then. Luckily my mate stepped in and brought her the squeaky ones. We still have them today too. They saved that Christmas of 1997,

And I sneered at the parents waiting in the Beany Baby queues. And as for those bloody scooters the other year........

But now here i am suffering heartbreak over some little machine i don't like very much. But the trouble is , my kids do.....

Oh No She's Not!!!

Yesterday i acheived one of my ambitions. I saw Olive from On the Buses live on stage. Went with mate to the Millfield Theatre in Enfield and saw Anna Karen in the pantomime Cinderella. Sod the kids, i left them with my mum.

My heart thudded when She came on stage dressed as the wicked step mother. I hadn't felt this way since I'd seen Sooty "in the flesh". I wanted to burst into rapturous applause - it was Olive for Gods sake, did n't these people understand this? Well of course they didnt'. They were nearly all under 3 ft. But the worse thing was some of those parents wouldn't know On The Buses either. There were lots of gags about Eastenders where she played Peggy Mitchell's sister but the real core of her allure - eg Stan and Jack - was bypassed.

She looked beautiful actually. Didn't remotely resemble that down trodden wife who was married to Arthur and related to Stan. But to me she will always be Olive.

Cinderella was boring and Dandini and the Prince were camper than the ugly sisters. I thought girls played the prinicpal boys. In fact i'm sure they do. Buttons was quite good, if not a bit fat. Me and mate booed everyone (quietly) except for Olive.

In the interval outside in the pouring rain havin a fag, a theatrical looking lady asked me for a light. I advised her to take it from the end of my fag as she would never get a lighter to work in this wind. I apologised for this common way of lighting up. She smiled with blood red lips - This is panto, darling - she said. I didn't really get it.

My mate was there. His brother was playing one of the ugly sisters. He scrounged an ice-cream off me, the greedy git. Then he went back to his group of mates. When this mate was a professional actor, his pals were really nice people. Even the bitchy screaming old queens were quite sweet. But since he'd turn Semi-pro, his group of amateur chums are really unfriendly and only talk to you if you're "important". Whenever i meet a nice mate of his i instantly know they're professional. Interesting!

Supposed to be going to church today. don't know whether to or not. will think about it. Desperate to ask "olive" what she felt about Reg Varney's recent departure.

End of an Era

John Lewis has gone straight onto my Bastard List. Straight to number one, faster than Slade's Christmas hit.

All I wanted was a golfing umbrella. The first floor some silly cow told me. The ground floor, some other boffin said. Opposite the jewellery section, someone dressed in black said. Opposite the gloves some other funeral clad lackey assured me. You hear about the straw that broke the camel's back? I handled it in a mature way. I threw son's football that i was going to purchase down to the basement floor of Waitrose and indicated that why couldn't THEY close down and not Woolworths? And no wonder people shop online! (or was that Waterstones I said that to?) Better not go in there for a while.

Honestly, the shit service you get in there. And don't even start me on their drapery department!

I'm still grieving for Woolworths - thats the trouble. Even tho' they're not quite closed yet. I still haven't got over C&A! Do you remember Woolworths' christmas adverts? They used to be a minute long with REAL stars like Fiona Fullerton and Leslie Crowther. You really felt the thrill of Christmas then.

And what's Twickenham High Street going to do now? Woolworths was the last place you could buy toys and games now all the toy shops have closed. And I mustn't give way to my childhood memories of that institution or my eyes will mist up again.

Staying in today. Sod the golf umbrella. Husband can have a box of Ferro Rocher from the local garage.

Time to take off the make-up

Well, its over. The thing I'd been planning for a year is finally over. Never to go into that beautiful room again. (see above - only there wasn't any tables and chairs). Well unless I fork out another £500 anyway.

I was still laying out cheeses and crackers wearing my driving shoes and glasses when the first guest arrived. Luckily it was a close pal. In the end, it all got too overwhelming with serviettes and whatnot and olives that She took over while i went out for a fag with her husband. And that seemed to be the most I talked to someone.

Mates from Ireland and Berlin turned up especially for the event. Which was a little pointless as I spoke to them as much I did to the woman from down the road. Neither did I get my mitts on any cheeese - especially that Yorkshire Blue I'd got from the Waitrose Deli counter.

I seemed to be constantly outside greeting people and smoking. Keeping half an eye out for any new arrivals. The next thing I knew it was 3 o'clock and Husband was making a speech and step mother in law was cutting the cake. (The speech I made him do that is.) Where did that time go? I had barely been in that beautiful room.

My brother was over the other side of the room effing and blinding amongst the posh in-laws. He was trying to embarass me. But I had one valuable weapon - I was too pissed to care.

Going to the Ladies with my Mum, father in law appeared desperately searching for glasses to put away. I gave him a sweet look which said Sod Off You Old Fool. Ungrateful I know. There are natural taker-overs at parties - sometimes they're welcome, sometimes they're not.

By the time the out-laws had thrown away the last plate and packed up the wine (10 bottles left) I said to the remaining stragglers (my mates) that I was going to sit in this lovely window seat in this room of my dreams and actually relax. The moment I sat down I saw it was five to four! I panicked. If you stay over 4 o'clock you get charged another £150! We all legged it out of there. It was a cross between Cinderella and the Big brother House. But there was no Davina McCall to greet us - only a disgruntled father in law and hyperactive children.

Got home and unpacked the remains of the cheese and cake - whatever was i going to do with it all. My head spun from daytime drinking and my mouth tasted of sand. Two pound down because of 2 missing glasses, not to mention the best part of a Bag of Sand. But I wouldn't have changed it for the world.

The Big Day (nearly)...

This is a picture of me and how I will look at my party on Sunday. Before and After. I won't tell you which one is which. Ideally anyway, if things go to plan. Stopped worrying about the paper plates looking common. Half the room (in-laws) will think its a step down and the other half (my relatives) will see it as a step up. And how far I have come in life.

How in Gods name am I going to get all this stuff to the Town Hall? Crackers, cheese, serviettes and watnot. Let alone the 30 bottles of wine - with glasses. All of these things I never want to see again after Sunday. Well, the possiblity of wine maybe. On the dot of 12 when we're allowed in , there will be a supermarket sweep-esque rush to the main tables and with the aid of selotape and paper tablecloths (also common) we , or rather I, have half an hour to make it look approachable.

My in-laws will arrive on the dot of half past twelve, if not before. They're very early people. I've got to get a few cheeses out by then, surely! And as for that bloody cake! I can barely lift the thing!

Husband useless as usual. Who is going to supervise the cake? He asks me this morning. You are, I tell him. But i'm supervising the children, he exlaims. And you're also doing the cake as well I tell him sweetly. I paid for the thing, I paid for the parking meter outside the bakery, i carried the bloody thing to the car, the very least he can do is light a candle on it.

I know its my party but Husband has been really tight about it. I still need soft drinks and i'm going to ask him to pay for it on the credit card as opposed to my tired old switch card. And i'm going to ask him to pay his nephew for serving the wine. I cannot believe how he hasn't helped out.

My Mum will be bloody late. She always is. So she'll be useless too. What a carry on! Think I'll just get pissed.

The other night I went for a birthday supper at my mate's in London. She can't come to the party so we had an intimate supper instead. Driving back through Knightsbridge - as long as I see Harrods, i know the way back home - I realised I had been in central London more times in the last 3 months than I had for the past 10 years . I realise this was mostly due to childrearing but I constantly seem to be in this City lately. I'm bloody fed up with it.. Its alright for that stupid sod to have said A Man Who is tired of London is tired of Life. How many traffic lights did He have to go through eh? How many taxi's had cut Him up? How many places had He been ripped off at ? I tell you, he knew sod-all.

Will have Christmas then will go out in the country somewhere. Sod London.