Easy pleasure # 2

I am currently being pleasured by This!

Go buy yours now at;

www.shaggyblogstories.co.uk


It really is a spiffing read. And, it's still in aid of Comic Relief's Red Nose Day.


I also have a new pet, a webcam, to go with the wee black dog. But, she's not sure about it, probably wanting to eat it, little bugger!


It looks like an alien, peeping at me over the top of the laptop screen. I think I'll call it a name. Why, I don't know, but it seems a fluffy thing to do. So, it shall now be known as Little Bo.





And, the weather finally Smells like Spring today. Not a day too soon as it's now British Summer bluddy Time.

Easy pleasure

Mr T sits across from me in the kitchen of the main house, smoking a fag and drinking coffee. Legs akimbo.

‘Blimmin’ ‘eck!’ I say, ‘you simply cannot wear those jeans anymore!’

‘But, I love these jeans, and they do me fine for work.’ He replies, defensively.

‘Let me take a photo of the holes in the seams and the crutch and then …’

‘Don’t be a twat! Gerroff me!’

Exasperated, I squeak ‘I’m not the twat, you are indecent. They’ve got to go, you look like a perve, look, and I can nearly see all your bits. Plus, there are worn out patches on the legs.’ I nag, apparently.

While he’s away for a few days I order him some new ones from the M£S website – one pair black and one pair blue, which will be delivered by 28th March. Good-o.

I rake the bedroom floor for washing to put into the machine, and find the forlorn jeans. I go to throw them in the bin. Relenting, I wash them. And IRON them. For God’s sake! Because I am worried he’ll not have any to wear if the new ones don’t arrive sharpish. And, his bum does look particularly gorgeous in them …

This morning, I am sitting in bed, sipping my first cuppa of the day ah, nectar. Enter Mr T. He has found his pile of ironing (I wash, I iron, I don’t put away.) He is bearing his precious, pervie jeans in his outstretched arms; his face a picture of joy and happiness.

He strokes them reverently; eyes alight, reminding me of the magic of Christmas.

‘Well, summer’s coming and I’ll need to keep cool,’ he says. Then he proceeds to refold them, stroking them all the while. He places them in his drawer, saving them for best.

Bitz a News

Not an awful lot to report today. Wee black dog pining for Mr T - looking like a little lost poor child all about the place. As well as running away, around to see Mr & Mrs Farmers' dogs and pesterin' the life out of them 'cos they live in kennels and she doesn't. And helpfully getting me into my coat, hat and wellies again this morning, whilst still wearing my pj's (me not the wee dog.) And, the snow's still here, though it has stopped snowing, but it is bloody cooooold!



Best Bit: one of my Bessy Mates is coming up to stay for a week in April, Hurrah! And, the Farmers have agreed we can help them with the lambing. But, I shall have to stay away from pregnant Freaky Friday due to a toximoses thingy. Luckily, she will be away for most of this visit ... which show all things work out somehow, don't they?

And, apparently the Proclaimers got into the pop charts at no 35 this week - on downloads alone. People preferred the real one to the karioke one that Peter Kay and Matt Lucas did for RND. Um, while I did enjoy the RND one, I, um did download the

Proclaimers Best of album via i-Tuns. And it is Great!

O, and my bloody cold is back. How ^ery dare it!!

A Bl**dy Dog! Story this time ...

Ooh. I said OOH!

Mr T is away for a few days, staying down South, in England, with my brother - an excuse, you see to partake of (lots) of brewed hops, some F1 on the telly and a look at some pop star called Lemar, and generally having a batchelor kind of time... Me? O I'm having some lovely, peace ...

Back here at the ranch, the Scottish sky keeps sending snow to fall on our heads. Well, it arrives in the night, covering our ve!ux windows so I can't see out, and making the hills look like xmas cakes. Then the sun comes out to play and it goes - see-saw, see-saw.

(Just now, at 10 minutes past 4 o'clock, the sun's out and the trees are swaying in an ear-bitingly cold wind, when half and hour ago big, fat fluffs were sailing down - confusing.)

And, while Mr T is away then with the dog I have to play. Wee dog and I came back yesterday at about 7 o'clock, from having a lovely mother's day dinner, cooked by Freaky Friday and ... well, me and a little bit by nanny's best girl (who, not grumpily, o, no missus never grumpily, helped me wash and dry the dishes (moody nearly 10 year olds, eh? tsk.)) and that morning's snow had melted. So I peacefully had a bath.

Then, 30 minutes past 8 o'clock the wee dog needed to make yellow snow. I thought bugger it, I'll put my coat over my jarmies and put on my wellies. O, no. The wanky torch batteries had gone (we do live in the wilds, hence no streetlamps, and hope to gawd the buggering Gordon Brown does NOT double the price of the 4x4 tax) so, I put in more batteries. It turns out the torch bulb had gone. Meanwhile, the wee black dog is turning white in new, freshly falling yet-a-bloody-gain, snow, waiting patiently for me. So, found another torch, donned hat, gloves and scarf as well as thick, long coat and socks and wellies, to brave the near white-out so she could have a poo, and I waddled out the door.

O, wee now-white dog, loved bounding about in the snow, hiding from the torch-light and fair danced up to the end of the lane. Just to return to the house with me, wriggle and generally fuck about while I tried to wipe her feet, and she didn't have a poo at all.

Ooh, I said OOH!

Puff, pant and rock

We started our walking 'training' yesterday. As I am not fit, at all, I succumbed to very achy little leggies, being puffed out and, as I'd worn Mr T's socks instead of mine, getting blisters on my heels.

Not only that but also, we enjoyed fantastic views from up the hill, fresh air, red cheeks and a sense of achievement that I had actually got off my arse and moved about the place a bit. We've diaried in to walk around near A's place next week. A is very much more used to walking than I am, and she's slimmer, younger etc so, I shall have to get some practice in!

But, when to get the time? I have to see the rest of $aturday £itchen this morning. I have a Rural meeting this afternoon and, the 'competition' is for 3 rock buns (see? how exciting?) But, I thought I would have a go, and realised I haven't made these things for nearly forty years! It was in first year of senior school, aged 11. I can remember having made them but for the lifeof me couldn't remember what they even looked like, let alone tasted.

Luckily, Mr T went to the same school as me, and had to do 'domestic science' as cooking was called then and he made them too! So, he was chief taster and passed them as 'mmm, ok' for me. Shall I faint if I win?

Buy This!

'THIS' is a book, full of funny stuff all written by V.V. Funny Bloggers, compiled by Mike Atkinson, in support of Comic Relief's Red Nose Day.

I just did! at;

http://www.shaggyblogstories.co.uk







GOOD LUCK TO RED NOSE DAY!

Kerpow!

It's 10 past 6 am. I have been awake since 30 minutes past 4 am. This is the result of having an early night. This may not be very early by other peoples' standards, but 11 pm was Early for me, lately. I've been, I dunno, sitting up until 2 or 3 am each night (morning?) lately. Looking at films, Skins, Scrubs etc on the telly, as well as checking my email, looking at blogs (there is some v.v. funny people out there!) eBay, Amazon and, O, anything that takes my fancy on the computer machine.

Then, I can't get up in the morning.

So, I am grumpy. And, can't Get On with anything with any kind of Energy.

Then Kerpow! I've signed up to do this Race for Life and, suddenly, I have Energy! I have been motivated to bully all my email contacts - some of whom I haven't written to in, O, ages, except to pass on 'funnies' like you do; I've printed out a sponsor sheet, ready to bully those lovlies at the rural who don't have email, or have been sensible to not give me their email address; printed out a training sheet, in order to bully myself into doing stuff, or at least, read whilst laying on the sofa to drink hot chocolate with marshmallows in; spoken to a couple of pals and bullied them into joining the race too. One of whom had the cheek to call me Ms Bossy Boots! But both of whom try to bully me into stopping smoking.

Ah, yes National Non-Smoking day today. Or is it World-wide Non-smoking Day?

Anyhoo, I shall try to not smoke today, (please, miss can I have more tomorrow?)

And, one of my pals is coming round on Friday am, so we can begin our walking training.

So, perhaps this Race for Life is gonna do something to prolong My Life, eh?

Just one more thing ...

Now then, I know that over just the last few days I have asked you to donate a funny blog, to help needy folk around the world; not eat unethical chocolate, thus do a bit towards stopping slavery, that was, apparently, abolished oh, about 200 years ago, except it's not. Stopped that is.

However.

I do have just one more thing to bring to your attention, and to ask not just for your support, but also for your money, too. Cancer Research UK, Race for Life has just had another entrant, me, at Perth, on 1st July, um this year. This Year!

Please see the thingy at the in the side bar and, please do donate at least a little Something. Or enter and do it your self. Thank you.

O, and I'd best get moving a foot. Or Two. One, after the other.

Hedgehogs, Ginger Beer and Chocolate

Ooh, I'm hungover. Not from alcohol, you understand, as I only drunk Ginger Beer and Lime. But, we didn't get to bed until about 3 am, after going to a Ceilidh Ball last night. And, I danced! The Dashing White Sargeant, it was, and I was bloomin' knackered - then at midnight there was a disco, ooh! I love dancing, and did it, well, a lot. 'Dancing Queen' me. Trouble is I have a sore hip. And, I don't really exercise much. So, this is the first exercise I've had for, oh, some while, ouch.

I took nanny's best girl to Burnham, Perthshire, yesterday to look at the Beatrix Potter exhibition. Well worth the one pound coin entrance fee. She's nearly ten (NBG, not Beatrix) but still enjoyed dressing up in Mrs Tiggie Winkle's bonnet, pretending to iron old fashioned clothes, grimmaced at the drawings of spiders and loved reading about her life. Well worth the drive and the money. We went into the dreaded 'gift' shop and the only thing NBG really, really wanted was a book of Beatrix's journal. Now, she has a birthday coming up shortly ...

Speaking of special occasions, I know some of you do buy for mother's day, and will probably buy for Easter so, I'd like to ask you to look at this site.



http://www.stopthetraffik.org/chocolatecampaign/







It tells you where you can buy chocolate that is human traffic free. Do scroll down to the 'Good Chocolate Guide' highlighted in blue.
Thank you. (picture downloaded from Fair Trade site)

Now, I shall have to get dressed, the family are all coming round for their Sunday Roast dinner and, I hope they will make the coffee, to help my poor head that is hungover from staying up late, too much ginger beer and, ahem, too many fags ...

Shaggy Blog Stories

Len, fellow A215 06 er.

In aid of Red Nose Day, Troubled Diva are hosting a bookwriting thingy.

http://troubled-diva.com/labels/rednoseday.html

(updated 11.3.07 with a copied linky thing)

This hasn't come out all spiffing and sparkly, with a proper link etc. But, it is a great idea, so do give it a go.

The idea is that bloggers submit their funniest blog to Troubled Diva, by Wednesday 14th and then they (or, if they are overwhelmed with many entries, they'll make a selection) will collate them into a book. This will then be sold, in aid of Red Nose Day on 16 March. Yay! Go forth and submit your best!

Just thoughts

Oh, bugger. This post was in danger of turning into a rant about mine and my mother's relationship, or rather, lack of one.

Why is this relationship such a shite one for most daughters? And, what the fuck do we need Mother's Day for? It's a lie if you don't mean it, and can be wracked with guilt if it passes without acknowledgement.

This year, I will not find myself searching for a card without 'I love you' printed in it. I shall not send a card at all. Without Guilt. I believe it is now time for me to finally grow up and get on with it as far as my own mother is concerned. She's a grown up woman, who makes her own decisions. She can get on with it, too.

My bitterness and rage are here no longer. From this moment.

I have my own family and we love and nurture each other. It really is more than sufficient.

Win, Win, Win!

I am sooo chuffed, and huffed and puffed up I can hardly contain myself. We performed our playlette this evening for the Rural (Scottish WI) and Won the damned competition. There were only four entries but, because ours was different from the others and, well, yes, better we Won!

Darlings, it was a battle. Of wits and snipes, of lines cut and actions added. Of lines too short and stuff that just padded. Of the newbie's against the knowing old wifey. But, we came home with the silver trophy!

Here's the thing. We are now in the Final in a couple of months. So, we've to do it all again.

This actually won't be a pain, though as I like the women in our 'cast' and it's good to get to know new people. The witch and I will never like each other, but at least I am learning to tolerate her.

Ah, we live and learn.

Thumbs Up

Yesterday I noticed I have a numb thumb. And it's still numb this morning. Well, a bit, just at the top. Hmm.

As the fags have increased lately, I was a tad worried so I looked up 'numb thumb' on the bbc health site. Nope, not a heart attack. Nope, not a stroke. Or 'text thumb'. Or from playing video games - I don't really do much of either. Hmm.

Ah yes, then I remembered, I did three hours of ironing wet, starched napkins for work yesterday. Bugger, nothing exotic then.

Other News. On Thursday evening we had our final dress rehearsal for the Rural play competition, and stuff got helpfully changed*, by one particular person, Grrr! If ever a person got on my tits, it's this one. I try to keep calm, I do, grit my teeth and evertything, but I understand she has a reputation for being a cow, and in my panicky moods I wonder Just What she will come out with on the night. I shall never do anything with her again as she is an old b*tch.

Calm. Calm, Lavender, Calm. Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaalm.

Anyway, Mr T videoed it for us and, crikey it looked Shite. Well, fat, old me certainly did and most of us forgot at least one key line = the key lines are the funny ones. And it was a whole two minutes short. Although, we are hoping that this time will be made up in part by audience participation called laughter. Like a hyena, me, haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, bloody, arrrrrrrrrrrrgh.

So, I have elegantly added more dialogue for my character, as I don't feel I can ask anyone to learn anything new at this stage. Today is Saturday, we have a last read-through and check-out on Monday morning, then we will perform this life, nay, world changing literary gem, on Monday evening.

Fuck, it's only a 10 minute skit, for Chrissakes!

(see what language they made me do?)

* of the play wot I wrote.

Donny, David or Rod?

Donny or David? In my yoof, cira 1973, I was a David Cassidy fan, he was soooo cute! We don't see so much of him now, and, like some of us, he hasn't really kept his looks. Hooever, Donny (Osmond, in case you are a zoomer) is on the telly lately and, on this lunch-time's edition of Loose Women, he was introduced as the 'Original Teen Idol'

Ahem.

A teen idol, as far as I know, is the bloke you drool over, scream at, sob over, dream and fantasize (yep, sexually, of course. Even when you are only aged 12 or 13, or younger) 'cos you Firmly Believe he will happen upon you, straight away fall madly in love with you, thus making his life complete. Teenagers only evolved around the 'fifties, when Elvis Presley hit the sounds and screens, and hitherto-before demure young ladies, jumped up and down, doing all of the above. He was the 'Original' and, don't tell anyone but he can make me squiggle about even now. Even though he was my parents' generation, and is believed to be dead.

Now, a later and everlasting idol for me, is Rod Stewart (not yet a Sir ...) Not, you understand, just because he is sexy, sassy, wrong-'un type that your father would not allow within a million miles of his unsullied (?) daughter but he is a superb song-writer, and great performer.

At the moment I am stamping my feet (yup, another tantrum. Possibly) because he is due in Concert at the Hampden Park Footie Ground in Glasgow in July. My birthday's in July. I want to go and see him. But the cheapest tickets are 75 pound coins of this realm. But, we need to seriously consider a new matress in order to stop the groaning aches we find ourselves with, as we grapple out of a fitful sleep each morning ...

Watch this space, kiddos.