Our House is rubbish. Its official. A week of constant viewings and not a sausage. AND it didn't help that the buggers turned up today with some viewers in the middle of lunch. Me and daughter sitting there stuffing our faces, the clothes horse in full view, my dirty knickers left on the landing! ("Oh, did we not tell you about the viewing?") The main concern was hiding the ashtray and fags. I do not want some bastard sueing me for second hand smoke!
This surprise visit crushed me like a cigarette packet. It somehow really despressed me they had seen my dirty washing like that - not to mention the litter tray. There was only one thing for it - getting on the bus to Richmond and going to a six o'clock film at the Filmhouse - sorry, Curzon cinema. Hadn't had time out like that for ages and threw on my coat the moment Husband walked in the door. Now, the Curzon, formerly the Filmhouse, is a bit special to me because about 5 years ago - or whenever American Beauty was out - my mate saw Trevor McDonald queuing up for sweets at this very cinema. I long to do the same. I would love a glimpse of Trev. I've always been a bit in awe of him. And Son when he was about two, used to point at him on the TV and say "Daddy" (he did that to Jerry Springer too). That made me beam with pride.
Now tips for an unaccompanied older woman on a brief night out:
Not to giggle and blush when the young man at the box office asks you where you want to sit.
This is not 1975 when you flirted with anything that moved. This is 2009 and that boy's mother is probably younger than you!
Not to glare at the bearded man at the ice cream/cappucinno kiosk when he blankly gives you change for £10 in one pound coins. Even tho', when you yourself worked at the supermarket smiled nicely and apologetically for not having any £5.00 notes.
You must not succumb to this surly behaviour even if the young man in question was a bit "up himself"
And definitely not to say to the young girl in the auditorium "are you havin a laugh?" when she flashes her torch for one instant at some seat bang in the middle of a row. Admittedly if she wanted to show your seat properly, she could have held that torch up a bit longer. Was she cutting back on batteries or what?
This is not the correct ettiquette and no way for an older woman to behave.
Saw Rachel Getting Married by Johnathon Demme. Was a bit all over the place - and very noisy. Why do these Americans do this pre-wedding celebration thing? A big dinner the night before or something. Surely the wedding day itself is hard enough - my poor Husband's nerves certainly would never stand that sort of thing. And how many people did they have staying at this house? I know they have bigger houses in America but surely all those guests must have got on the poor Dad's tits. My Husband would have moved out after two days!
Gosh, that Ann Hathaway's a bit of a stunner isnt' she.
Gotta go. There are fags to be smoked. xxxx
Friday, 30 January 2009
Thursday, 29 January 2009
On the Streets
What a miserable existence I have at the moment. A life on the streets. The life I have now come to embrace.
I'm basically sodding off out while Estate Agents bring round potential buyers to see our hovel. Everyone hates our house. Its obvious. Their restrained look of horror as they politely look at the overgrown garden. Trying not to itch to get away. I am so embarassed. So I flee. Its better that way.
I pound the streets, lonely and bereft of warmth. I see my haggard reflection in oily puddles. I seek refuge in the slums of Strawberry Hill. My nose pressed up against an abandoned Estate Agent's window. Hoping against hope that a kindly old Jewish man will take me in and teach me how to pick pockets and that. And then i would light the first of 3 matches in the cold and brutal snow... oh, hang on. Never was that strong at the classics. Always did get them mixed up.
There was only one place for people like me on the way down. The only direction down for the likes of us. And that was a cafe near Strawberry Hill station that does Thai food for £4.95 - a choice of rice or egg noodles and an extra topping of cashew nuts. AND a free read of the Daily Mail. Yes, being desolate is not all bad.
Return home through the wind and the rain, coming back for a fag and checking on the cat, before the next viewer comes along. And this time , its the Launderette. They have Hello magazine in there........
I'm basically sodding off out while Estate Agents bring round potential buyers to see our hovel. Everyone hates our house. Its obvious. Their restrained look of horror as they politely look at the overgrown garden. Trying not to itch to get away. I am so embarassed. So I flee. Its better that way.
I pound the streets, lonely and bereft of warmth. I see my haggard reflection in oily puddles. I seek refuge in the slums of Strawberry Hill. My nose pressed up against an abandoned Estate Agent's window. Hoping against hope that a kindly old Jewish man will take me in and teach me how to pick pockets and that. And then i would light the first of 3 matches in the cold and brutal snow... oh, hang on. Never was that strong at the classics. Always did get them mixed up.
There was only one place for people like me on the way down. The only direction down for the likes of us. And that was a cafe near Strawberry Hill station that does Thai food for £4.95 - a choice of rice or egg noodles and an extra topping of cashew nuts. AND a free read of the Daily Mail. Yes, being desolate is not all bad.
Return home through the wind and the rain, coming back for a fag and checking on the cat, before the next viewer comes along. And this time , its the Launderette. They have Hello magazine in there........
Sunday, 25 January 2009
Thought i'd get on here while Husband is watching "Lost". Get a bit lost myself with that bloody programme. But there is one thing that confuses me most of all: how in Gods Name does that bloke stay horrendously fat even when he's been months on a desert island? And its not like he sits around eating coconuts either, he's always up to some jolly jape or another.
And that John. I quite fancy his Dad. I don't know why he's so bitter that his Dad only found him and got to know him again so he could get his kidney donated to him, then dropped him like a hot brick. My Dad would have done that. Without a second thought too. Its just business sense. That John should realise that.
Anyway thats enough of that shit. My daughter's been giving me agro. Well, her mates have. The ones who live in her hair. Thought i'd got rid of those bastards. But blow drying her hair, a million of them fell out all over our bed. Luckily it was on my husband's side! I think i swept them all up but at night i lay there convinced they were going to get me. And i swear i felt one crawl over my scalp. But then i cheered slightly. I had just had all over highlights at the hairdressers (as opposed to the half head thing) so my hair was jam packed with chemicals. Suck on that, i thought sleepily, wasn't that what that man in taxi driver said when he shot someone through the stomach? Well, that nit will be out faster than a bishop in brothel raid in the morning. Bloody amateur.
And now, i've got to be nice to Son's teacher tomorrow - or at least civil. Had a big row with that fat bastard when my daughter was in his class. Git. And yes, he is still high on my Bastard List. But thats the trouble with a younger sibling, you still have to put up with these buggers. Anyway got to ask nicely if he will walk Son back to school after a bloody football match. Well, i;m not smiling at him - will just ask politely without looking at him. Then i'm coming home and scrubbing myself all over. Now i know how a prostitute feels!
And that John. I quite fancy his Dad. I don't know why he's so bitter that his Dad only found him and got to know him again so he could get his kidney donated to him, then dropped him like a hot brick. My Dad would have done that. Without a second thought too. Its just business sense. That John should realise that.
Anyway thats enough of that shit. My daughter's been giving me agro. Well, her mates have. The ones who live in her hair. Thought i'd got rid of those bastards. But blow drying her hair, a million of them fell out all over our bed. Luckily it was on my husband's side! I think i swept them all up but at night i lay there convinced they were going to get me. And i swear i felt one crawl over my scalp. But then i cheered slightly. I had just had all over highlights at the hairdressers (as opposed to the half head thing) so my hair was jam packed with chemicals. Suck on that, i thought sleepily, wasn't that what that man in taxi driver said when he shot someone through the stomach? Well, that nit will be out faster than a bishop in brothel raid in the morning. Bloody amateur.
And now, i've got to be nice to Son's teacher tomorrow - or at least civil. Had a big row with that fat bastard when my daughter was in his class. Git. And yes, he is still high on my Bastard List. But thats the trouble with a younger sibling, you still have to put up with these buggers. Anyway got to ask nicely if he will walk Son back to school after a bloody football match. Well, i;m not smiling at him - will just ask politely without looking at him. Then i'm coming home and scrubbing myself all over. Now i know how a prostitute feels!
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
Here goes.....
Have been tagged by my pal French Fancy to select the fourth folder and fourth picture in my thing - sorry to be so technical.
Anyway this one came up. Its a well-known image from Carry On Camping and Barbara Windsors' bra has just come off and gone into Kenneth Williams' face. How ever did he and Charles Hawtry get away with being hetrosexual characters?
Once i learnt to do this photo uploading thing, i went through a phase of going through Google and that and finding images of all my favourite films eg Clockwork Orange and of course this one. The only images I couldn't get were Straw Dogs and Georgie Girl.
This image means a lot to me because I was about 11 when this film came round to our local fleapit. My Mum took me and my friend of the time, Patricia (who became a right old snob later on) and we had an orange lolly just like Sid James did at the beginning of the film. I had seen Carry On's before at the cinema but this one was so rude, so special, so funny. Going to the "pictures" was a magical exciting time and I devoured every trailer, every advert (no boring mobile phone adverts then!).
And anyone of my generation has never seen a campsite in the same way again. I see a tent and expect Sid James or Bernard Breslaw to be standing there leering at birds.
I'm glad to see my children feel the same about the cinema. I mean what with this video and DVD stuff now, and the coldness of a multi-plex, i thought they'd be a bit blase about celluloid. But no, Son sits there holding his free magazine like a serious film critic and Daughter will concentrate all the way through.
Saw the play by Terry Johnson a few years ago at the National: Carry On Cleo, Camping, Dick and Emmanuel and it brought back poignant memories for me.
Oh yes, i nearly forgot, tag 4 people:
Suburbia
Dotterell
Elaine (liebraumilch & Lipstick)
Suzy (Soos Stuff)
Hope i;ve done this right. Thank you for giving me a chance for a bit of nostalgic wallow and drifting back to the dark cinema (long gone) of 1969.
Monday, 19 January 2009
It Always Rains on a Monday
Woke up late at 6.45 to the sound of drumming rain. Put on kettle, feed the cat, gave my Daughter a call, made the coffee and had my fag. Daughter storms down the stairs, why didn't I wake her at 6.30! Now she's late! It seemed churlish to point out at the time that registration isn't till 8.45 and the school is 8 minutes walk away. It wouldn't have done any good, believe me.
Got daughter's breakfast ready and ran bath. Called Son but knew there was no chance of life until 7.30. Same with Husband. Its like two different shifts in this tiny house. The early's and the lates'.
Get in bath. Can't be arsed to wash hair. Start dreaming of my next fag. Daughter screaming behind the door, asking me where her locker key is (?), along with cat trying to get in so she can drink from the toilet. No wonder these bloody animals get ill!
I drift off. How did my little girl get so unlovable? I mean, don't get me wrong, i love her to bits but she really is at an age where only a mother CAN love her. I was the same at twelve and a half. Lumpy, spotty, greasy - with a personality to match. Not the shouting so much. More of a mumble through yellow teeth. (sadly some things stay the same).
I mean even the "golden children" , as my pal calls them, go through this unlovely stage. Before they bloom and look like teenagers in those American high school films. They have to look and act dreadful first.
Get out of bath and dry self. 7.20 am. I could sneak downstairs and have a crafty fag before waking Husband up. But not so, Daughter demands she gets dressed now and that I brush her hair. She has a pony tail now to prevent our mates the nits from making a return visit.
Manage to sweet talk her into waiting till 7.30 when daddy will be up. I have to go into the bedroom to get her clothes out of the airing cupboard. Nearly trip over Cat.
Half a fag then make lunch for both kids. Son comes down with tussled hair and Husband demands he goes to the barbers. Smoke the rest of fag.
Brush daughter's hair. She screams. Put tea tree oil in Son's hair. He screams. Ask if Son has done homework, he screams again. Find a really cool carrier bag (co-op biodegradable 6p!), he demands a lunchbox. Point out kindly that every lunchbag we fork out for ends up at school most of the week, smelly and forgotten.
Daughter disgusted at carrier bag proposal. She is class eco-rep. Find her a pretty bag I got from the St Margerets Fair. Won't see that thing again. That will be in her locker until the summer holidays. And of course, its pissing down with rain. Will have to be the car. Start dreaming of when they were little and you could strap them in and restrain them. Now, its less hassle getting the cat into her bloody box.
Son still hasn't got socks on yet. Have another fag break.
Got daughter's breakfast ready and ran bath. Called Son but knew there was no chance of life until 7.30. Same with Husband. Its like two different shifts in this tiny house. The early's and the lates'.
Get in bath. Can't be arsed to wash hair. Start dreaming of my next fag. Daughter screaming behind the door, asking me where her locker key is (?), along with cat trying to get in so she can drink from the toilet. No wonder these bloody animals get ill!
I drift off. How did my little girl get so unlovable? I mean, don't get me wrong, i love her to bits but she really is at an age where only a mother CAN love her. I was the same at twelve and a half. Lumpy, spotty, greasy - with a personality to match. Not the shouting so much. More of a mumble through yellow teeth. (sadly some things stay the same).
I mean even the "golden children" , as my pal calls them, go through this unlovely stage. Before they bloom and look like teenagers in those American high school films. They have to look and act dreadful first.
Get out of bath and dry self. 7.20 am. I could sneak downstairs and have a crafty fag before waking Husband up. But not so, Daughter demands she gets dressed now and that I brush her hair. She has a pony tail now to prevent our mates the nits from making a return visit.
Manage to sweet talk her into waiting till 7.30 when daddy will be up. I have to go into the bedroom to get her clothes out of the airing cupboard. Nearly trip over Cat.
Half a fag then make lunch for both kids. Son comes down with tussled hair and Husband demands he goes to the barbers. Smoke the rest of fag.
Brush daughter's hair. She screams. Put tea tree oil in Son's hair. He screams. Ask if Son has done homework, he screams again. Find a really cool carrier bag (co-op biodegradable 6p!), he demands a lunchbox. Point out kindly that every lunchbag we fork out for ends up at school most of the week, smelly and forgotten.
Daughter disgusted at carrier bag proposal. She is class eco-rep. Find her a pretty bag I got from the St Margerets Fair. Won't see that thing again. That will be in her locker until the summer holidays. And of course, its pissing down with rain. Will have to be the car. Start dreaming of when they were little and you could strap them in and restrain them. Now, its less hassle getting the cat into her bloody box.
Son still hasn't got socks on yet. Have another fag break.
Friday, 16 January 2009
What the......
Husband had a day's holiday today. He announces he's off to Westfield Shopping Centre. I nearly dropped my fag. He hates shopping! Oh, he'll go to Tescos and that but not "frilly" type shopping. Not the kind of shopping I know. Two shirts at M&S every 6 months and thats it for him.
I got it out of him that there was a big Foyles there. But there's one near Charing Cross, my words silently told him.
And do you know what he came back with? A Nintendo Wii Fit! Well, I had a bloody fit too I can tell you. What in Gods name does a 47 year old man want with a Wii Fit? £70 from HMV he announces proudly. I didn't mention the earache i would have got if i'd spent that amount on stuff for the kids.
I mean what planet is he on? We are on the verge of moving house and spending vast sums trying to stay in the area. So much so, that we are using my semi-inheritance towards it. (Sod the kids future). The credit card is near its limit and there is a thing called a Credit Crunch.
But not where we live obviously....the silly bloody sod! Nintendo Wii shit more like!
I got it out of him that there was a big Foyles there. But there's one near Charing Cross, my words silently told him.
And do you know what he came back with? A Nintendo Wii Fit! Well, I had a bloody fit too I can tell you. What in Gods name does a 47 year old man want with a Wii Fit? £70 from HMV he announces proudly. I didn't mention the earache i would have got if i'd spent that amount on stuff for the kids.
I mean what planet is he on? We are on the verge of moving house and spending vast sums trying to stay in the area. So much so, that we are using my semi-inheritance towards it. (Sod the kids future). The credit card is near its limit and there is a thing called a Credit Crunch.
But not where we live obviously....the silly bloody sod! Nintendo Wii shit more like!
Tuesday, 13 January 2009
Where's that List?
Well, my day has turned successfully to shit. Bit of a bad start with a trip to the Vet this morning . Got presented with a £346 bill !!
A continuation of all the tests and shots from the last time Vet explains sweetly - oh, and a shot from this visit too. Rose had a fever - again! Otherwise he was happy with her! Oddly tho', Husband was far from happy when i gave him the bill - can't think why. Rosie lay on the vets table and purred. Well, she wasn't paying was she!
Estate Agent round here at 4 o'clock on the dot! The cheeky bugger had done a valuation already! It was all printed down on their paper. I could have extended this place into a 5 bedroomed utopia for all he knew - the presuming git. Anyway, devastated, £275,000 tops he reckons. A similiar hovel to this one down the road went for £300,000 something 2 years ago AND it didn't have a driveway like us. Still, that was 2 years ago - could well have been 200 years ago with this economic climate.
But on a good note, there's a super house nearby for sale that i've had my eye on for ages that they're representing that could well take a lesser asking price - according to assuming estate agent anyway.
So God knows. But depressed. And got another agent tomorrow - are they going to shatter my world too. I'll just offer up my wrists and give them a knife.
And then, and then, when i was battling with cooking a pasta pie (which incidentally tasted like shit!) my mate Peter, who i was going to see Slumdog Millionare with tonight, bloody phones and blows me out. At 20 past 5! I was expecting him at bloody 6! I was tarted up and everything! He had a free ticket for Mandi Patinkin instead. Bastard! I hope he sits behind someone with a big hat or a column!
My mate Peter is lovely ,he really is. I've known him since 1975 from college. And despite him being a selfish little git, i loved him and was his devoted friend. The years in-between, his selfishness thinned out but in the last 2 years or so, it has come back full force. Is it that you're selfish when you're young, then you get a bit more considerate in the next 3 decades, then approaching 50 your disregard for your friends comes back in full force! Especially ones you've known for 34 years! I mean, sod him.
Am going to really sulk tonight. And smoke and drink!
A continuation of all the tests and shots from the last time Vet explains sweetly - oh, and a shot from this visit too. Rose had a fever - again! Otherwise he was happy with her! Oddly tho', Husband was far from happy when i gave him the bill - can't think why. Rosie lay on the vets table and purred. Well, she wasn't paying was she!
Estate Agent round here at 4 o'clock on the dot! The cheeky bugger had done a valuation already! It was all printed down on their paper. I could have extended this place into a 5 bedroomed utopia for all he knew - the presuming git. Anyway, devastated, £275,000 tops he reckons. A similiar hovel to this one down the road went for £300,000 something 2 years ago AND it didn't have a driveway like us. Still, that was 2 years ago - could well have been 200 years ago with this economic climate.
But on a good note, there's a super house nearby for sale that i've had my eye on for ages that they're representing that could well take a lesser asking price - according to assuming estate agent anyway.
So God knows. But depressed. And got another agent tomorrow - are they going to shatter my world too. I'll just offer up my wrists and give them a knife.
And then, and then, when i was battling with cooking a pasta pie (which incidentally tasted like shit!) my mate Peter, who i was going to see Slumdog Millionare with tonight, bloody phones and blows me out. At 20 past 5! I was expecting him at bloody 6! I was tarted up and everything! He had a free ticket for Mandi Patinkin instead. Bastard! I hope he sits behind someone with a big hat or a column!
My mate Peter is lovely ,he really is. I've known him since 1975 from college. And despite him being a selfish little git, i loved him and was his devoted friend. The years in-between, his selfishness thinned out but in the last 2 years or so, it has come back full force. Is it that you're selfish when you're young, then you get a bit more considerate in the next 3 decades, then approaching 50 your disregard for your friends comes back in full force! Especially ones you've known for 34 years! I mean, sod him.
Am going to really sulk tonight. And smoke and drink!
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