tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55948371627286461822024-02-18T20:30:16.841-08:00My Funny Old World!Life can be complicated and I have questions! Laugh with me at "my funny old world"!My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-55959330823446679252014-02-16T15:24:00.000-08:002014-02-16T15:24:53.582-08:00How do you mend a broken heart?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
How do you mend a broken heart? Well I'm in a good position to answer that having had my own heart broken more times than I deserve. But the good news is I survived each one and I'm very sensitive, sentimental, and emotional so if I can then you can survive this too.<br />
Ok so here goes, get yourself a drink, tea, coffee or hot chocolate and keep sipping as you read and get yourself comfy under a blanket/duvet if you feel a bit cold. Take a headache tablet (all this heartbreak does literally hurt).<br />
Done that, then I'll begin. If you haven't done it then stop reading and do it now, that's an order! Good, thank you!<br />
<br />
ITS NOT YOU, IT IS THEM! - it isn't you, honestly, they just don't "get you", they don't understand or appreciate you enough. You can't and shouldn't change. If two people don't "fit" together it can't be forced. Maybe you didn't see it, maybe it was a niggle you had but didn't want to admit it. Do not blame yourself. If they say it is them then they're probably right! (Keep sipping your drink).<br />
<br />
YOU WILL GET OVER THIS - how you are feeling right now will pass, you will smile, laugh and be happy again! For the time being though, don't look into the future. Initially, worry about NOW! Not tomorrow or next week but right this minute. (Sip)<br />
<br />
DO WHAT YOU WANT - within reason of course. Eat ice-cream,cry, scream, punch your pillow, go for a run (that wouldn't be my choice), take a nap (my choice), or watch a movie, (funny not sad).<br />
<br />
DONT CONTACT THEM -<br />
I know you want to, but don't do it. What would you say anyway? And if they don't say what you'd hope they'd say then you'll feel so much worse afterwards. Don't drown your sorrows with a bottle of wine or anything remotely alcoholic or you may end up calling them and saying things that you'd regret, hence the hot drink you should have in your hand (Keep sipping)!<br />
<br />
TALK TO FAMILY/FRIENDS - they'll want to listen. Your best friend will be your rock, (your ex wasn't your best friend, maybe you thought they were but sorry my darling, they weren't) tell them how you feel, sob into their shoulder. If they're not nearby give them a call or Skype them. (Lift drink to mouth, sip and swallow)<br />
<br />
I strongly believe things happen for a reason and that you're on a path. To reach your destination life won't be easy but you'll get there. I've been with my husband for thirteen years this year and to have been in that right place at the right time I had to endure a lot of heartache. (As did my husband) If I hadn't been dumped, if I hadn't took that job, there are so many instances that put me in that place at that time (and to think I was so angry that my taxi was an hour late).<br />
If only I'd known, if only I'd have faith and believed in fate.<br />
When I think back to all the times I had my heart broken it makes me sad. It's not because I still hold any feelings for my exes but I remember the hurt I felt. The feelings of despair, loneliness, rejection and grief are unbearable but I can assure you that one day you will be ok. Hold on to that thought and one day you'll be answering the question when someone asks you, How do you mend a broken heart?<br />
<br /></div>
My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-5499981857974979692013-08-04T15:16:00.001-07:002013-08-04T15:16:54.226-07:00Have you ever been on a reunion?
Have you ever been on a reunion? I never have before but tomorrow I'm meeting up with a workmate that I haven't seen for about 22 years! (That makes me feel really old).
Let me tell you about her. She's called Denise and I totally loved working with her. In actual fact there was three of us working on the household dept in a large department store. We had nicknames given to us by Karen, (she was funny too) I was Baby Bear (I was 16 at the time) a lovely lady called Val was Mummy Bear and Denise, much to her annoyance was Daddy Bear! (Her best friend Caroline thought it was hilarious)
Over the five years we worked together we went through every emotion. We laughed loads but also sometimes cried together. I was delighted for her when she got married but I felt great sadness when she moved away to another county but once again joy as she became pregnant and had a little girl. Unfortunately, we lost touch over the years but I never forgot her. Denise loved listening to the music from the West End play Tell me on a Sunday, in particular a song of the same name. I often found myself singing it and I thought of Denise and the impact she had on me. Also, whenever I stood at a bus stop I'd remember the times we walked to the bus stop together after work to wait for our buses. We'd give secret names to the regular people that was there each day, (I know I'm immature, but if you're a regular reader of my blogs then you'll know that all ready) I can't remember them all now but we decided one nice lady looked a teeny tiny bit like a horse (sorry nice lady) so at the end of each day when we'd clocked off and were getting our bags and coats from the locker room myself or Denise would shout "are you ossing"? (oss was the shortened version of horse) The other would call back "Yes, are you ossing"? Others would look at us as though we'd lost the plot, especially when we told them that it meant we were asking each other if we were going for the bus!
Denise and I had a connection that was quite unique even though she's ten years older than me. I suppose, looking back, I looked up to her. The first time I went to her house and I saw her kitchen was painted white and all her accessories, kettle, toaster and mugs etc was bright yellow and it looked fabulous. I decided when I left home I'd want the same in my kitchen.
But what I remember most of all was her sense of humour and also the fact that she didn't care what people thought of her. What you saw was what you got! I admired her for that.
Last week Denise found me on a social networking site. I was blooming delighted to say the least. A couple of days after that she rang me. We were on the phone for nearly two hours, catching up on what we'd been up to for the last twenty odd years. I soon found Denise hadn't changed a bit. She still got up to mischief but didn't want to go into to much detail as she said she still thought of me as Baby Bear!
"Denise" I said, "I'm forty-four so spill the beans, I want to know all the juicy details"
(But even at forty-four I still blushed)!
So, tomorrow at 11am I'm meeting her, as it happens very close to where we used to work. Will I recognise her? Will she recognise me? What will are first words be?
No doubt it'll be "are you ossing later"?
So dear readers, have you ever been on a reunion?
My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-65790396580049859232013-01-02T04:03:00.001-08:002013-01-02T04:03:27.737-08:00Have you ever had a visit from the police?
Have you ever had a visit from the police? Well, I blooming have!
It all happened last night and I've never felt so frightened in my life.
Let me set the scene. It was midnight, hubs was working a nightshift and I was tucked up in bed. I wasn't asleep as my neighbours, who like night time activities (see previous blog), was being rather vocal! As you can imagine I couldn't listen to that so I turned up the television extra loud. I was hoping they'd hear it and realise why the volume was so high. After a few minutes I was back to silence.
"Bliss" I thought and snuggled down to sleep.
Then all of a sudden I heard tapping at my front door. I lay there not moving a muscle.
"Oh my gosh, it's my neighbour coming to complain about my noisy tv" I thought.
I was panic stricken. I wasn't going to answer the door and assumed if I stayed silent and unresponsive (unlike his girlfriend) then he'd go away. But no, the banging on my door grew louder and louder, then I saw a flashlight at my window. Now I was proper scared. I got out of bed and went to the window to see a bright light pointing right at me! I opened the window, my heart racing, and called down to who I presumed was my neighbour.
"Hello " I called
"Will you open your door please and let us in" a gruff voice answered back?
"Who is it" my voice squeaked back?
"The police"
"I'll be right down" relieved it wasn't the Greek God Dionysus from next door.
Within no time at all my door had been opened and three burly uniformed officers stood before me.
"Can we come in" the youngest of the group asked? But before I could answer two of them was already in my kitchen. Wide eyed I just stared at them.
"Is there anybody else here" the other asked?
I went on to explain that hubs was at work and I was on my own.
"We'd like to look in your garage please" the first cop said, and it didn't feel like a question.
I handed the keys over telling them that there was a light switch on the left and it wasn't very tidy as we'd only been in the house for just over a month.
"We can smell cannabis in the air and it seems to be coming from your garage"
Goodness me they think I'm a drug dealer!
"I actually thought you were from next door". I went on to explain my lively neighbours and why I didn't answer the door sooner.
As one of them checked the garage the second stood in my doorway (I'm assuming so I couldn't do a runner in my fluffy slippers) and the third was outside trying to look intimidating (but failing)
Now with all of us stood outside (I was pleased I'd put my dressing gown on as it was a bit nippy) and after the cop giving the garage a once over they were satisfied I was innocent.
They went on to explain that a neighbours car had been found further up the road and it'd obviously been in an accident so they'd come to the address but no one was home and that's when the cannabis aroma had been noticed. The police made their apologies and left.
I was a nervous wreck to say the least, you could see my hands physically shaking.
I retreated back to the safety of my bedroom grabbing my phone I called hubs. After he calmed me down and I'd stopped peaking out of the window at the police concentrating on next door but one (maybe they noticed the air con unit on the roof of their garage) I settled back down to try and get some sleep (not that I got much).
So, dear readers, have you ever had a visit from the police?
Ps lighthearted innocent stories please, let's not get serious!My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-81744990831020428302012-12-30T05:22:00.001-08:002012-12-30T05:22:09.103-08:00How do you tell your neighbours you can hear them having sex?How do you tell your neighbours you can hear them having sex? I say my neighbour (who's a man in his late twenties, early thirties) but I really mean my neighbours girlfriend! We'd only lived in our new home for three days when I heard her. Hubs was sound asleep and I was happily reading my book when all of a sudden a noise startled me.
"Oh", I thought " they've got a Jack Russell next door".
It was yapping away like small dogs do when realisation hit me! Oh my goodness, they're at it! They're having sex!
Oh dear, was this going to happen every time or was they just having a laugh trying to wind us new neighbours up?
A few days later I saw what I guessed was her car on their driveway.
"Brace yourself", I said to hubs, "and don't get any funny ideas either"!
"What you talking about" he replied looking confused?
"You'll see"
We carried on watching television when all of a sudden I faintly heard the tell tale yelp.
"What's that noise" hubs asked looking slightly confused?
I raised my eyebrows at him.
"Oh, (pause) oh, (pause) ohhhh, (now speed talking) blooming heck, what's up with her"? The penny dropped!
"What's he doing to her"?
"Do you really need me to tell you"?
"Can't he tell her to shut up"? Then hubs started to rant!
"It's enough to put you off"
So, what's the answer? I have a few ideas and I'd like your opinion.
Idea 1
After the noise has stopped give them a round of applause shouting "bravo, bravo"
Idea 2
When she starts yelping bang on the wall shouting to ask if she's ok and does she need an ambulance. (Hubs is convinced that she's being electrocuted)
Idea 3
Hubs and I pretend to have a massive argument and I scream "go and have sex with her then" and he shouts back "not with the noises she makes I'm not"!
Idea 4
As soon as we hear her run to their front door knocking furiously and then run away. (This idea makes me giggle, I can be so mischievous)
Idea 5
Invite lots of friends round and charge an admission fee.
Idea 6
Ask my mother in law if she'll go round to their house and just tell them straight! (This ones not the best idea as I don't think I could even say the word "sex" in front of her)
After living here for over a month I do hope you can all appreciate our problem. I'm dreading having my son (aged 22), my parents and in laws (all in their seventies) visiting us when our next door neighbours are getting amorous (if that's what they're doing). My son would just be laughing hysterically (how immature) and I'm sure all the parents would just pretend they couldn't hear it (whilst hubs and I would look at each other wanting to laugh hysterically)
So dear readers, please help!
How do you tell your neighbours you can hear them having sex?
My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-35313096789125150952012-11-16T13:20:00.002-08:002012-11-16T13:20:23.181-08:00How old are you?
How old are you? I'm asking because tomorrow is my forty-fourth birthday! Yep, I'm forty-blooming-four. Before you yell at me I know it's not old (unless you're younger and you do think it's old) and I'm not ashamed of it in any way shape or form but I just don't want to be that age. So I've decided that I want to be thirty-six. Why? Because its a nice number and why not?
I've just thought, if I tell someone I'm in my mid thirties they might look at me and think I look really old for my age! Oh no!
Ok, change of plan, tomorrow I will be .... forty-nine! Now I look young for my age! Result!
Why do I care?, I hear you ask. Well, to be honest I don't know. Maybe it's because-
A. Life seems to be passing by so quickly.
B. My son likes to shout out my age and laugh as loud as he possibly can much to my annoyance.
C. Birthdays and Christmas' aren't as exciting anymore.
4. The memory starts to fade.
On the plus side of things I'll have a lovely day, my son may even visit, and hubs and I are meeting friends in the evening for a meal in my favourite Greek restaurant. I do enjoy my birthdays, a lot of people make a lot of effort for me and it touches my heart. I suppose I just don't want to grow old.
Tomorrow I'm going to be forty-four! (I shout it loud and I shout it proud)
So, dear readers, how old are you?
My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-78399323318767699512012-09-29T03:09:00.003-07:002012-09-29T03:09:29.594-07:00Do I need to lose weight?<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px;">Do I need to lose weight? I normally would answer "no I'm fine" and I suppose in some ways I am. Well, maybe I could do with losing the odd pound or two (about twenty-one to be truthful) but I'm fine, I really am, I'm fine. Honestly, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine..........</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px;">
Hmmmm, actually, I'm not fine, I'm overweight, there I've said it! I'm overweight, it's took me nearly forty-four years to achieve it (I'm strangely proud of that)! It's had it's ups and downs but unfortunately it's my weight that's been on a big "up" for the last eighteen months so I think a "down" is long overdue. </div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px;">
So where do I start? Well, I've pushed the not very healthy food to the back of the fridge/cupboards. I refuse to throw food away though, one day I might appreciate that kit kat or that pack of garlic butter! You never know I may even come across a diet that encourages copious amounts of warm garlic bread oozing with butter (I'm not doing myself any favours am I?).</div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px;">
Seriously though, I decided to do something about it, with hubs too (if I'm on a diet then so is he). </div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px;">
How? Was the next question. I asked my best friend as she's always watching what she eats and has a lovely figure. Weightwatchers? Slimming world? They both help an awful lot of people but Emma recommended a app for my iPhone (a free one at that). So I downloaded "My fitness pal" (the title frightened me as I'm allergic to anything that even resembles fitness) and what a clever app it is. It asks for your sex, height, age, weight and how much you'd like to lose then all you have to do is log everything you eat or drink and also what exercise you've done that day including light housework and walking. It takes a bit of getting used to but it's very helpful. </div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px;">
So we've been calorie counting for a week now and I'm delighted to say I've lost one and a half pounds. I feel thinner and I have more energy. It's s good start I suppose, hubs lost nearly twice as much as me (grrr), but I was hoping for a little more, and yes before you ask I shaved my legs, had a pee (and emptied my bowels) speed ran on the spot for a minute or two (about 10 seconds in reality) to squeeze another ounce of fat out of me (urgh that sounds awful). </div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px;">
I know this is the start of a very long journey, very long. Can I do this? Do I want to? I've eaten fish three times this week and that's a record for me especially as it hasn't been deep fried in batter (yum)! Oh how I love my fattening food, chocolate, chips and more chocolate, not forgetting alcohol. that reminds me, I'm out <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">tonight</a> with hubs and two other couples for a meal and drinks (and it could get messy)! </div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px;">
I am fatter than I should be and I suppose for the sake of my health I need to do something about it even though to start with it may be tough. Or am I just trying to talk myself into it?</div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px;">
So dear readers, do I need to lose weight? </div>
My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-9406074400305422322012-09-13T16:46:00.004-07:002012-09-13T16:46:47.393-07:00How do we cope when our children leave home?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px;">How do we cope when our children leave home? We don't! Us mothers just cry and cry and wish we could turn the time back to when they needed us. We look at baby photos, sit in their bedroom and wallow in self pity feeling like our world had ended. We are mums for goodness sake what else our we meant to do. What's are identity if we aren't "mum"? What's are role in life? What are we meant to do now? <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Just remember for one moment that we haven't always been a parent, that before being totally consumed by our little bundle of joy we were happy individuals. We were strong independent women. That's what we were and that's what we can be again (I say, sitting up straight with a determined face)! I'm not going to let this empty nest get me down! We should be proud of ourselves for bringing up our children into good well rounded individuals. Yes, we did it! A pat on the back!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But we'll soon discover that our "mum skills" are very much in demand. How to cook this, do we have to defrost that? What's the best washing detergent to buy? Why has the chicken we've just roasted have no breast meat on it? (because it's you've cooked it upside down). How much does this cost? How much does that cost? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
See, our job hasn't finished has it! It's just changed slightly. But now it's time for us to do whatever we want. Want to cook naked? Now you can, (though I wouldn't advise it)! Want to play Michael Bublè at full volume? You can with no one complaining that he doesn't rap. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You've probably guessed by now that my son is leaving home (again). He left about a year ago but came back after six months. I'll never forget it. Hubs was away working at the time (so I could cry all the time and feel sorry for myself). On his last night at home we watched an episode of Cougar Town, ironically it was about Travis leaving home and how difficult it was for Jules his mum. She wanted a poignant moment together which summed up their relationship and I wanted the same. There was so many things I wanted to say to my son-</div>
<div>
•We've had a good time haven't we?</div>
<div>
•I'm very proud of you. </div>
<div>
•Thank you for being a good son. </div>
<div>
•We did it mate, didn't we?</div>
<div>
•I always be your mum and I'll always be here for you. </div>
<div>
•Oh and I'm not going to do your laundry!</div>
<div>
But when it came to it, son just hugged me for about ten seconds and I couldn't speak, nothing came out of my mouth and do you know what? It didn't matter, the silence from both of us spoke volumes and that was our poignant moment. Tomorrow (september 14th) I've got to do it all over again. Will it be easier the second time? Will I be stronger? I doubt it. I'll just give him a hug and try my hardest not to cry (though I know I'll fail) and say see you later and he'll go. Then I'll retreat to my bedroom and sob and sob and sob some more then take a couple of migraine tablets (I won't be caught out this time). </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I know I'll get used to son not living here but I think hubs and I will consider moving house to somewhere smaller. New beginnings for all of us. New home, maybe new hobbies. It's going to be an exciting time I suppose with new challenges and adventures. Starting with two weeks in Rhodes (a Greek island)! </div>
<div>
But wherever I am, whatever I'm doing I'm still, and always will be, his mum. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So dear readers, How do we cope when our children leave home?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</span>My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-60096931362290298762012-05-26T04:48:00.002-07:002012-05-26T04:48:20.217-07:00Do you prefer tea of coffee?Do you prefer tea or coffee? I need to know as its very important. When you come round for elevenses I would like to serve you what you like the best. So before you come I'll go to the supermarket and get your favourites.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://0.tqn.com/d/britishfood/1/0/D/-/-/-/Englishcupoftea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="278" width="432" src="http://0.tqn.com/d/britishfood/1/0/D/-/-/-/Englishcupoftea.jpg" /></a></div>
What about a nice cup of tea? Yes? Would you like English tea or Assam (my favourite), Earl grey, darjeeling, green tea, mint tea, jasmine tea, camomile tea or a fruity infusion? You want English tea, good decision!
Tea bags or loose tea?
Tea bags, ok! That's good and less faffing about.
Which brand? Yorkshire tea, Tetley tea, PG Tips, Twinings or Typhoo?
You'd like Twinings, ok, though they aren't the cheapest but never mind it's a special occasion.
Would you like milk with your tea? Yes? Full fat, semi-skimmed or skimmed? So you'd prefer semi-skimmed.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.internationalsociety.org.uk/afternoon%20tea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="276" width="460" src="http://www.internationalsociety.org.uk/afternoon%20tea.jpg" /></a></div>
What, you've changed your mind! Ok ok I'm not stressed at all! Coffee it is then!
I could do you instant, filtered or I have a Dolce Gusto coffee maker, what's your choice? Instant? Well that surprised me, I thought you'd like a Dolce Gusto latte or cappuccino!
Did you know instant coffee was invented in 1901 by Satori Kato who was a Japanese scientist in Chicago. (Remember that fact and impress your friends with your knowledge, over coffee of course) Nescafé? Good choice, but which one? Original, Gold blend, Black gold blend, Blend 37, Alta Rica, Cap Columbie, Suraya or Azera?
Gold Blend? Ok got it!
Milk, cream or Coffee Mate? (I'm beginning to regret inviting you now)! You don't mind, milk it is then (I'll save the Coffee Mate for me)!
Sugar? Yes? White sugar, brown sugar or a sweetner? Brown sugar? Oh you're posh! One lump or two?
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.planet-coffee.net/images/coffee_planet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="339" width="340" src="http://www.planet-coffee.net/images/coffee_planet.jpg" /></a></div>
Cake or a biscuit? A biscuit, which sort do you like? A digestive, Rich tea, custard cream, jammie Dodger, ginger biscuit, Oreo, shortcake or a chocolate chip cookie? What? You can't make your mind up?
I think I have a better idea! Shall we go to Starbucks? Yes? Great!
So dear readers do you prefer tea or coffee?My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-62488827221124070832012-04-29T05:25:00.000-07:002012-04-29T05:25:37.210-07:00What's on TV?<br />
<div class="utdU2e" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
</div>
<div class="QqXVeb" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
</div>
<div id=":ia" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" tabindex="-1">
</div>
<div class="ii gt adP adO" id=":in" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; position: relative; z-index: 2;">
<div id=":io">
What's on tv? That's the question that's always asked of me. I have hundreds of channels so they're bound to find something. But to be honest I don't care in the slightest what they watch as long as its something because I spend most of the day switched off.<br />Hello, I suppose I better ask you how you are, I'm ok I guess though I could do with a dust. I'm sure Bosslady will get around to it soon, I say lady as Bossman never ever dusts me, though thinking about it he watches me more than anyone!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKzUFByX_UlWd0ukohPLO3Zf9oM9Jxb0OXAF2O6MbfVjbPT9__MmFUCS82FKk7WAlnd4KYuE54_9fHhHt3-qhtjXfjmwwjwtbYQPs24cOkFp60YKqIClxYQrQrq2MbWYmLa4m3btmYEY/s1600/telly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKzUFByX_UlWd0ukohPLO3Zf9oM9Jxb0OXAF2O6MbfVjbPT9__MmFUCS82FKk7WAlnd4KYuE54_9fHhHt3-qhtjXfjmwwjwtbYQPs24cOkFp60YKqIClxYQrQrq2MbWYmLa4m3btmYEY/s1600/telly.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div id=":io">
<br />I'm Kojak the television (I was named after the "Telly" Savalas character) and I'm the miserable bloke that sits in the corner of the room. I'm married to Veronica the Virgin (is she hell a virgin)media box, she sits on the shelf underneath me, the best place for her as far as I'm concerned! On the bottom shelf is Delilah the DVD player but she's retired now. Me and Veronica have two children, Randy Remote and Raquel Remote. They live on the coffee table and are good friends with Jason the iPhone.<br /><br /> Nearly every evening my owners sit together on their sofa staring at me. Now and again they laugh, occasionally Bosslady cries at sad movies or programmes but mostly they just stare at me with a blank look on their faces, (though I think that's normal for Bossman). What I do approve of though is there love of documentaries, I've learnt such a lot, such as, did you know that there are 1792 steps to the top of the Eiffel Tower and the only place you can "tickle" yourself is the roof of your mouth (try it as obviously I haven't a mouth, or a finger for that matter).</div>
<div id=":io">
<div class="ii gt adP adO" id=":in" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; position: relative; z-index: 2;">
<div id=":io">
<br /></div>
<div id=":io">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_Y8c4qwRy9-sILpqgJusHPqvpLyGP7ap-FFVMpUkvXXh9cMJdRxBmCQRgUkjUrSk_TlwZ-cZZgb9SCBfVGe1qbxyzMlgoL_XWC4hTX2JV8_gDjJtyteMFC_UNMsWSXoGB0MCV9xK7Os/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_Y8c4qwRy9-sILpqgJusHPqvpLyGP7ap-FFVMpUkvXXh9cMJdRxBmCQRgUkjUrSk_TlwZ-cZZgb9SCBfVGe1qbxyzMlgoL_XWC4hTX2JV8_gDjJtyteMFC_UNMsWSXoGB0MCV9xK7Os/s1600/2.jpg" /></a></div>
<div id=":io">
<br /></div>
<div id=":io">
<br /></div>
<div id=":io">
When they go to bed its Bernard the bedroom TVs turn. Bernard was telling me that when they go to bed its the old chap that turns him on but as soon as he's decided on which channel to watch then he immediately goes to sleep. The lovely young lady then switches Bernard off and plays with Jason!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxEjBICBj2UQmse_13lc6kTfQNGLPV2QnnN403hl5ykzZZ6QbSQCxrkddsB3z-nCDWpUvVBzT4kF1UQR1DKkCSoRA2SEAWidOwXlNlL1hTp0p-zRRHiHQJWil4O1hPVfWsYwh_zwphNM/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxEjBICBj2UQmse_13lc6kTfQNGLPV2QnnN403hl5ykzZZ6QbSQCxrkddsB3z-nCDWpUvVBzT4kF1UQR1DKkCSoRA2SEAWidOwXlNlL1hTp0p-zRRHiHQJWil4O1hPVfWsYwh_zwphNM/s1600/3.jpg" /></a></div>
<div id=":io">
On occasion the Bosses play on Will (the Wii console). They enjoy a variety of games including tennis, bowling, table tennis and the old fellar likes playing tactical games but the funniest for me to watch is "Just Dance" where they and their house guests attempt to keep up with the dance moves on my screen. It's hilarious!<br />You've heard the phrase "fly on the wall" well I bet you never heard about the "Tv in the corner". Ha, I bet you never thought about that one, did you? I'm not just here for your entertainment you know, oh no, you often entertain us televisions too.<br /><br />Oh no Lady has turned me off and my red light will go off in seconds. Doesn't she want to know.....<br />What's on tv?<br /></div>
</div>
<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
</div>My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-55626283305127827412012-03-24T05:30:00.004-07:002012-03-24T05:30:41.911-07:00When do you recharge your batteries?<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">When do you recharge your batteries? I get the chance overnight even though I'm still being used!</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Let me introduce myself, I'm Jason, Chelles iPhone. I was named after one of her friends who's intelligent, but can be a little camp at times (I had a stupid sparkly red cover and looked a bit girly, don't let that put you off me).</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I'd like to make it clear from the outset, I'm treated very well. I'm pleased to say she changed my awful red cover to a slightly better one, only slightly better though as its mauve, I mean, who wants to wear mauve. Doesn't my mistress realise I'm a manly man! It's a good job I'm not confused about my sexuality! After all, if I was human I'd be Hollywood hard-man Vinnie Jones (but better looking).</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXMtjGmSrmVYJZqTMztyLCTG7X0BnIMVtmzMWghx7ZYirUP8PxfR89Ugld-BqxMdh3CFRapklNBKista0rTO86_yDyxT8avTzGPq8A49W00dAsCcp5fNOHYo09q9hTPB34cOZwle3c4k/s1600/vinnie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXMtjGmSrmVYJZqTMztyLCTG7X0BnIMVtmzMWghx7ZYirUP8PxfR89Ugld-BqxMdh3CFRapklNBKista0rTO86_yDyxT8avTzGPq8A49W00dAsCcp5fNOHYo09q9hTPB34cOZwle3c4k/s200/vinnie.jpg" width="155" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I spend most of my time in her soft hands while she gently taps away at my slim torso. She gazes at me in deep thought before using my keyboard to its full potential then often using the "x" to delete a lot of her words. Unbeknown to Chelley my delete button is one of my erogenous zones and boy does she work it! (The others my space bar) oh yes!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0gQQpm9zqv8Z0NGuiuAMRJ2wNjIJUiUp_GQoz1Zk_OvVGJqNajxyzKf9peOTie7ZaaZ4C2JNEMg0Ztj6CsYpdtGRkBdOi2nG8RFlsLDP0jKktl0AL8rumGaXd16dTm_T7RpDFXQWMX4U/s1600/sexy+iphone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0gQQpm9zqv8Z0NGuiuAMRJ2wNjIJUiUp_GQoz1Zk_OvVGJqNajxyzKf9peOTie7ZaaZ4C2JNEMg0Ztj6CsYpdtGRkBdOi2nG8RFlsLDP0jKktl0AL8rumGaXd16dTm_T7RpDFXQWMX4U/s1600/sexy+iphone.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I am my mistresses favourite thing. She plays with me loads more than Leonard (the laptop). He's getting on a bit now though, he's so slow Chelle shouts at him which I find hilarious. Hugo (the home phone) thinks I'm being mean as once upon a time Leonard was her favourite and he spent many an hour sitting on her lap but now he sleeps behind the sofa in his bag the majority of the time.</span></div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Chelle uses me for many tasks including;</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">•Using the Internet</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">•To play games</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">•Sending text messages and emails</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">•Supermarket shopping</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">•Making lists (she has a lot of those)</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">•Keeping her diary</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">•I fulfil her app addiction</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">•Watching live tv</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">•Watching catch-up tv (every night, as it helps her to get to sleep)</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">•Taking photographs and videos</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">•She even does a lot of her writing on here as she likes that I put all the capital letters and full stops in the right order. I'm also a fabulous speller.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">In fact I'm nearly darn perfect for her. I'm always there when she needs me. I entertain her for hours and hours. I ask nothing back in return. I love Chelle unconditionally. But she often works me so hard my battery needs recharging during the day. So she sits me in the kitchen on the breakfast bar and comes and checks on me every few minutes. My boss is so thoughtful, I mean, get this, when she sprays her hairspray she always covers me up with her towel or whatever's at hand. How caring's that?</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Her hubs reckons I must be the most used iPhone in the history of iPhones! I mean, I'm busy now and recharging at the same time! Yes, and I can multi task too!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNli-GAOmQ5qOiSsjYdbXJS1beIeBAgzwts021pMJ9oEoPx1UI8_3j1rWZ6D8xhji27njdtFMQb1Ei_oAHtAdGzsl-aJ8T9F7Jb61VJJneC4eTnju0mcu9RKU873blF7fg6y0juhmfink/s1600/tired+iphone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNli-GAOmQ5qOiSsjYdbXJS1beIeBAgzwts021pMJ9oEoPx1UI8_3j1rWZ6D8xhji27njdtFMQb1Ei_oAHtAdGzsl-aJ8T9F7Jb61VJJneC4eTnju0mcu9RKU873blF7fg6y0juhmfink/s1600/tired+iphone.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">So, when do you recharge your batteries?</span></div>My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-4191972169163211152012-03-03T04:29:00.000-08:002012-03-03T04:29:28.048-08:00Am I too old for a tattoo?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Am I too old for a tattoo? Is there an age limit? Is it not deemed respectable to be inked? Am I respectable?! (I pause) Off course I am (well, most of the time)!</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">During my thirties I promised that I'd treat myself to a pretty design on my fortieth birthday, I thought of it as being a bit rebellious. I spent many years deciding between a little butterfly or flower. I say years, in fact if I added up the minutes it was probably very few.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">As the day grew closer I realised that;</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">(a) I hadn't chosen which tattoo parlour to use.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">(b) I hadn't decided on the design.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">(c) I'd be in New York</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">So having my very first tattoo was postponed. As I'm forty-four this year (oh my gosh) maybe its time I considered it again.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">What's brought this on, I hear you ask? Well I spent today with my friend Claire and her daughter Annabel, who's eight. Annabel had a fake tattoo on her arm which I told her looked good. She passed me her pack of "tattoos" that she'd brought with her and said I could choose one if I wanted.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Now, I know what you're thinking, they're for eight years olds not forty-three year old sophisticated ladies! And you're right! I don't play with My Little Ponies (I did once recently,well I was with Annabel) or Barbie dolls. I don't play on the swings or roundabouts. I don't go to the cinema to watch Disney films (only because Annabel has never invited me *sulking) I eat my vegetables. I don't just wear pink. I'm not into Justin Beiber (who?) and I don't watch Hannah Montana.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTdHEjwhC0ioFcVH4N1lnxnLnEUR8cZCl6Pb30Av9m_miSBDc4cysPv1KRF8zgeDe6r53QXHa5SDVNCFFZWJ_6dNDSI1ddCB2LYCGUxJqBWcILzXk2zaKJnFvomOG7c830-fmJStnka2Y/s1600/images+my+tatt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTdHEjwhC0ioFcVH4N1lnxnLnEUR8cZCl6Pb30Av9m_miSBDc4cysPv1KRF8zgeDe6r53QXHa5SDVNCFFZWJ_6dNDSI1ddCB2LYCGUxJqBWcILzXk2zaKJnFvomOG7c830-fmJStnka2Y/s1600/images+my+tatt.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">So you see my dilemma. At my age I shouldn't be wearing stick on tattoos. But I didn't want to upset my little friend, oh no, I'd hate myself for it. We spent a few minutes looking through them. I'll tell you something, they've changed since I was a girl, not a Daffy Duck or Pluto tattoo in sight! I decided on a pretty purple, sparkly star constellation to be positioned on my hand. Once the deed was done I'm not ashamed to say I loved it!</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">After I'd been temporarily branded we went out for lunch then to an ice-cream parlour. The very nice girl serving us said "I like your tattoo". I thanked her telling her the truth that it wasn't real. I now loved my "tattoo" even more!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_4nHJXbQjJRKzYHfw8sIslsAfIZvt-mraK7EJK0XrRIOExtjWnW_Y5uCYUxfWVbjODnCHJeU_JsHafdmTVO2-586a99hK601StiN8ztRmoHGxIc2wETxAmW3oRRiD-mrl-_dlgjOnWqY/s1600/tattoo+old.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_4nHJXbQjJRKzYHfw8sIslsAfIZvt-mraK7EJK0XrRIOExtjWnW_Y5uCYUxfWVbjODnCHJeU_JsHafdmTVO2-586a99hK601StiN8ztRmoHGxIc2wETxAmW3oRRiD-mrl-_dlgjOnWqY/s1600/tattoo+old.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I understand that women (and men) have tattoos in their forties and beyond and I'm certainly not judging them. But am I personally too old? What's the point in having one? Will my twenty-one year old son think I'm cool or just plain sad? Am I still clinging on to my youth? The picture below is one I've found and think its quite pretty. I think I'd have it done in purple as it's always been my favourite colour.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gHlESXilkKqMxPpcbjLegpU5B-DuOpQDA6DqKux6k-xrTOt9d1eFWQubCZmX4L2Q7QT7_3761afs3EEOM79BisGvg7e6utPrrCwRTFHx8KkUpR5jQc849V2WlZSs5k3Cg82g-6abVGU/s1600/this+one.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gHlESXilkKqMxPpcbjLegpU5B-DuOpQDA6DqKux6k-xrTOt9d1eFWQubCZmX4L2Q7QT7_3761afs3EEOM79BisGvg7e6utPrrCwRTFHx8KkUpR5jQc849V2WlZSs5k3Cg82g-6abVGU/s1600/this+one.png" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Or am I too old for a tattoo?</span> </div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-20068311606337186232012-02-06T11:12:00.000-08:002012-02-06T11:12:24.744-08:00What makes you laugh?<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">What makes you laugh? Is it comedians, sitcoms or
someone you know? Well I make myself
laugh sometimes. Take the other today for example, hubs and I were browsing
around a shop, he was way ahead of me down this particular aisle, obviously
urging me to hurry up, while I checked out all the bargains. Good value shampoo
and conditioners had my attention as I spotted one that made me chuckle as I
thought it might suit my handsome but balding husband.<br />
"Peter" I called in a loud voice. As he turned to face me, "do
you want any of this Wash & Go or have you already used it" I paused
"and it went"!<br />
Well, as you can imagine I couldn't stop laughing, hubs just smiled and walked
away embarrassed.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdr4sRA_b7oMxVKNeXX1Xd0l1WwWWS3mBqbYgN7UsxCGMmH_8Ytbr_WymVPIA-GBdKe1DX6EaOuDySxBzNllHah0OPqa_37-t4-LVZ8kOnV9CvY6iTNE_7Fz7Emu3c4amkhJkkL028_r4/s1600/wash&gouniversal2in1shampoo&conditioner28310.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdr4sRA_b7oMxVKNeXX1Xd0l1WwWWS3mBqbYgN7UsxCGMmH_8Ytbr_WymVPIA-GBdKe1DX6EaOuDySxBzNllHah0OPqa_37-t4-LVZ8kOnV9CvY6iTNE_7Fz7Emu3c4amkhJkkL028_r4/s1600/wash&gouniversal2in1shampoo&conditioner28310.jpeg" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">When we were slightly younger and it was bedtime and
he'd be in the bathroom, sometimes I'd creep up to the door in total silence
and wait, giggling to myself, and after I'd hear him flush I'd position myself
(still giggling) so as soon as he opened the door he'd see me standing there!
"Boo"! I'd make him jump every time! Annoying for him but
hilarious to me! I don't do anymore though; well he is fifty this year
and I've got to think about his ticker!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nQzm2ZJgFytEPLxC4KzVNsYCKXI41lYMUBnrtruWX-MEt2nGzeaV3SAppbVwLvBLxHRcvR3MNWcrBoO9gvhsOyszNEPJtWyE0rcc6LS_eO7d5eHgRDlymK3MfzlRGKce5PmOOxnnPjo/s1600/cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nQzm2ZJgFytEPLxC4KzVNsYCKXI41lYMUBnrtruWX-MEt2nGzeaV3SAppbVwLvBLxHRcvR3MNWcrBoO9gvhsOyszNEPJtWyE0rcc6LS_eO7d5eHgRDlymK3MfzlRGKce5PmOOxnnPjo/s1600/cat.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My friend Keith (aged 53) is naturally
funny, his mannerisms, things he says and situations he gets in. One particular
day we were working, (outdoors) Keith and I was with our colleagues Will and
Dave. It was very early and very foggy; we were all wrapped up in coats hats
and gloves apart from Keith who didn't have a woolly hat to keep his balding
head warm. I offered him my hat but being gentlemanly he declined. We all
chatted, laughed & jiggled about to stay warm.<br />
All of a sudden Keith threw his hand to his head.<br />
"What was that" he exclaimed? He looked at his hand,
"uuurrrggghhh"!<br />
A bird had pooped on his head! We all looked up but it was so misty you
couldn't see a thing.<br />
I burst out laughing and so did the lads!<br />
"What were the chances of that happening? Maybe you should have worn a
hat"!<br />
Keith was grumbling and swearing, the rest of us thought it was hilarious. I
grabbed my walkie talkie and called for hubs, who was still in the office, and told him
about Keith's unfortunate incident. Hubs replied saying that he was stood with
our boss and he was concerned the bird had soiled on company uniform! That
comment made us all laugh even more, apart from Keith of course!<br />
I did go off and find him some tissue to help him clean himself up telling him
that the bird that pooped on his head must have singled him out as he was the
only one without a hat so it must be a sign of good luck, Keith just glared at
me!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwpjeUPrCwF066KAUm6I1CMM8cKqddThxWptB3J5ivE0beQAM_d6kM5FJgeR1XV-5LT3kWekMHEM44XVIImxsQTSNvLq8QOwndPEqW-xptzbDkL4GVm6BmJPy5O9WGIOt0u_qpIJ7PrY/s1600/bird_poop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwpjeUPrCwF066KAUm6I1CMM8cKqddThxWptB3J5ivE0beQAM_d6kM5FJgeR1XV-5LT3kWekMHEM44XVIImxsQTSNvLq8QOwndPEqW-xptzbDkL4GVm6BmJPy5O9WGIOt0u_qpIJ7PrY/s320/bird_poop.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have more amusing stories but I’ll save
them for “What makes you laugh pt2”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">On British TV recently has been a series
called “An idiot abroad” It’s a travel documentary with a difference. Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant send their
friend Karl Pilkington to some amazing places around the world but
unfortunately Karl isn’t easily impressed.
The first series takes him to the Seven Wonders of the World but a long
the way Karl has tasks to perform and he’s no idea of them until he gets there.
Karl isn’t the most cheerful of characters to say the least which helps to make
each episode hilarious. A second series that followed was about Karls bucket
list which he only agreed to do if Ricky and Stephen would guarantee that he’d always
have a proper toilet to use. Unfortunately for Karl his “friends” didn’t keep
to there promise!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ1_eBly4wu4xcPmdPqQr0NxC5ahf_wWZOEVGVL8eQK1DMK_hlK63eR-2iCulieIpvG3AXjrAcwNQ11X3MWUtA6EGwmy0v3vZhERn-if7_-U2uCAKfU8ip0WG0BXR26eHlrxiMgFufAqY/s1600/idot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ1_eBly4wu4xcPmdPqQr0NxC5ahf_wWZOEVGVL8eQK1DMK_hlK63eR-2iCulieIpvG3AXjrAcwNQ11X3MWUtA6EGwmy0v3vZhERn-if7_-U2uCAKfU8ip0WG0BXR26eHlrxiMgFufAqY/s1600/idot.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The funniest show on at the minute is Mrs
Browns Boys. It stars Brendon O’Carroll as Irish “Mammy” Agnes Brown to six
grown up children. Only for grown-ups
though. Its filmed in front of an
audience, they ad-lib, laugh when they shouldn’t and don’t cover up any
mistakes which adds to the farce that it is.
Its proper laugh out loud comedies assuming you don’t mind a bit of
“fecking” swearing!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-PyG-ZI1fOyMUdHxEERyVWRJI9wWXyczMS59ntAj9j0pgTd3fjNRNxMh2k-HLHgC5pdbBc2flWEMUeAL8UvWOYZS5uaUkcE_VNHU3YkAUanj1-JAT3esWFhzmXhs152BYf6KMngXxdxo/s1600/Mrs-Brown-s-Boys-starting-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-PyG-ZI1fOyMUdHxEERyVWRJI9wWXyczMS59ntAj9j0pgTd3fjNRNxMh2k-HLHgC5pdbBc2flWEMUeAL8UvWOYZS5uaUkcE_VNHU3YkAUanj1-JAT3esWFhzmXhs152BYf6KMngXxdxo/s320/Mrs-Brown-s-Boys-starting-007.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whatever your sense of humour there is nothing better than
laughing, well they do say it’s the best medicine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, what makes you laugh?</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-62204236218148624962012-01-25T04:21:00.000-08:002012-01-25T04:21:14.816-08:00Do you have a special place?<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Do you have a special place? I have several, I know what you're thinking! I'm greedy! But throughout my forty three years I've been to a lot of places, some better than others admittedly, but a lot all the same. So heres a couple of my special places and one I detest.</span><div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">The dentist is definately not one of my special places, in fact it has to be in my top five of worst ever. And why oh why is the appointment always at two thirty (tooth hurty). In fact me and hubs have an appointment in April and I hope he forgets-don't remind him!</span> <br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); text-align: center;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">When I was a child I recall, quite vividly, our day-trips to the seaside. Dad and I would make sandcastles and paddle in the sea looking for seashells. Lunch would be either a picnic that mum had put together or dad would fetch chips (fries) from the fish and chip shop (why do they always taste better at the seaside?). After playing all morning and with a full tummy I'd lay on the blanket between by parents, lay a large towel over myself and fall asleep. I remember feeling very content and safe. I loved it! I was lucky to be raised by happy, fun but sensible parents who taught me good values.</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7CizaaUleM9di-BQMWUDCvFuViVIPzb96cTvCkh5oDFc85v6JyZu4703c2BUaQuL0bKLEiPdFdo2RatPsvBE59hRnMptFHyzT4p9rDh8aQiZdf3eYiqAU8xjsZOWI3n71acbMjh7Hwg/s1600/Skeg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7CizaaUleM9di-BQMWUDCvFuViVIPzb96cTvCkh5oDFc85v6JyZu4703c2BUaQuL0bKLEiPdFdo2RatPsvBE59hRnMptFHyzT4p9rDh8aQiZdf3eYiqAU8xjsZOWI3n71acbMjh7Hwg/s320/Skeg.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">We'd often have a sunday afternoon out at a park called Boultham (pronounced boot-um) Park that was about seven miles from home. My parents and I, two older brothers (12 & 14 years older than me) and their girlfriends would all go together. The park had everything, a bandstand which had a brass band playing, plenty of grassed area to lay a blanket out to laze in the sunshine or eat a picnic. The lake had boats for hire, obviously dad did the rowing! There was swings, slides, a seesaw and roundabout and also plenty of woodland with pathways throughout. It was idyllic.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwxgfKN2MYUFJ-ciertjuq__fgMlyChtGS1EfZjuYrWI3uAxRTACoiwE-a2hTsdb3kPg0Vb3J07ENC3r-f0sL4e0MUJAzflf7dE_QUj6VG9RhtfUAOWNmfzrNumQbNfmArLCcfxRGITY/s1600/bp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwxgfKN2MYUFJ-ciertjuq__fgMlyChtGS1EfZjuYrWI3uAxRTACoiwE-a2hTsdb3kPg0Vb3J07ENC3r-f0sL4e0MUJAzflf7dE_QUj6VG9RhtfUAOWNmfzrNumQbNfmArLCcfxRGITY/s320/bp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">When I'd left home and had my son, I'd often take him there. We'd pick up the autumnal leaves, watch the</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">squirrels scuttle about climbing the trees. He'd play on the swings etc and we'd feed the ducks.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">I live a five minute walk from the park now and visit often with hubs to feed the swans and ducks and reminisce about how my family and I would play French cricket, then eat ice-creams and ride on the miniature railway.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Hubs lived a couple of miles away while he grew up and would often visit the park himself with his family. So our paths may of crossed all those years ago</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">!</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4tvWhG50iqPza17un6pTOxFKqVZgUeNT9zVh5aBx1MSSbQmu8KmcCwxvM4mfZFAArrCGvozx6aU3qM1YN5ukvp2VPyCS4nHUoc9OT77ddkf70qApnvoT-H7hI4cUMYGIeDZKFQEllimA/s1600/bp2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4tvWhG50iqPza17un6pTOxFKqVZgUeNT9zVh5aBx1MSSbQmu8KmcCwxvM4mfZFAArrCGvozx6aU3qM1YN5ukvp2VPyCS4nHUoc9OT77ddkf70qApnvoT-H7hI4cUMYGIeDZKFQEllimA/s320/bp2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">The park makes me very nostalgic. I love the place, remembering playing their as a child and then years later playing there with my child. Now I walk there hand in hand with my husband</span> <br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" /><br /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">The Boultham estate originally belonged to the Ellison family.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">The hall was rebuilt during 1874 and was often thrown open for garden parties, galas and fetes.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">After 1909 the house became vacant due to the owners death.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">During the First World War the house was used as a convalescent home for soldiers. After the war much of the land was sold for new housing.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">The remaining grounds were finally secured by Lincoln City Council in 1929. The grounds were laid out as a public park with the hall being demolished in 195</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">9.</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwcTKydpB3vgqA0JO5UnpLYiTdnBL-_-mMtcS1i6E6Fx6vKnnCnx4jZP6dtkdBMY3-B8y7e3jTR2nhACOiwkW74tIDyAB9Sf4YhwsfuJ-taPPqBqdVXlKWQdu9VARuAxVP3XYU4G0iyE/s1600/bp3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwcTKydpB3vgqA0JO5UnpLYiTdnBL-_-mMtcS1i6E6Fx6vKnnCnx4jZP6dtkdBMY3-B8y7e3jTR2nhACOiwkW74tIDyAB9Sf4YhwsfuJ-taPPqBqdVXlKWQdu9VARuAxVP3XYU4G0iyE/s320/bp3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"> The park is steeped in history and now it's part of my history. It's without a doubt my very special place.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">So, dear readers, do you have special place?</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
</div>My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-36507610796349490702012-01-17T04:48:00.000-08:002012-01-17T04:48:08.756-08:00Fancy a true story?I have a true story to tell you. My dad told me about their escapade the other day and it still makes me chuckle. This is what happened to my parents on one normal Saturday morning.
Dad (75) was taking my mum (74) to the Drs surgery for an eleven am appointment with the nurse for a flu jab. They arrived in plenty of time and dad assisted mum out of the car. Unfortunately, mum has had two mini strokes in the last ten years and she often loses her balance, so my dad holds her hand like young lovers and guides her through the entrance.
As they walked in they went over to the touch screen panel and dad booked her in. First it asks the month you're born, then the day and you finish off with the sex (meaning male or female) apparently dad looked for the "yes please" option (eewww)! The instruction "please wait in the Lindsey suite" was given. Mum and dad looked at each other slightly confused.
"Where's that Philip" mum enquired?
"I'm not sure Maureen" dad answered, then pointed at a door saying,
"maybe it's through there".
There was no receptionist to ask, she'd disappeared, so they just proceeded to walk through the main waiting room, where three people waited, and through the door which they were guessing was the right way to go to get to the Lindsey suite. My mum and dad walked along the corridor and through another door when mum stopped and said, "are you sure this is the right way"?
"Maureen, to be honest, I'm not so sure" dad admitted.
"I think we ought to turn around and go back"
So they both turned to open the second door they'd gone through, but to their horror they were locked in, it needed a security code!
"Oh my god Philip, what we gonna do"?
"Don't panic Maureen, don't panic"!
She wasn't!
"I've got my phone on me, I can always ring someone for help" Dad remained calm.
"Who would you ring" Mum asked?
"Ermmm I don't know really, but I'll bang on the door and hope someone hears us"
So my dad starts banging and calling out, my mum is giggling at this stage.
"Philip, we might be here all night"
Dad looks at her and starts banging louder calling out,
"hello, is there anybody there".
Nothing, so he calls again even louder. Then all of a sudden they hear a little voice.
"Who is it" they call?
"Never mind who is it, will you just come and let us out"!
I think my dad was stressed.
The voice belonged to Dr Craven who's been their doctor for more than thirty years.
The doctor opened the door to see my parents stood there looking rather ashamed.
"What're you doing in here? He asked bemused.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.revenuexl.com/Portals/62006/images//Confused%20Doctor-resized-600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="424" width="283" src="http://www.revenuexl.com/Portals/62006/images//Confused%20Doctor-resized-600.jpg" /></a></div>
"We thought it was the way to the Lindsey Suite" spoke a very embarrassed dad.
"The main waiting room is where you wait, that is the Lindsey Suite" doctor said.
"Oh, sorry Doctor Craven, Maureen thought it was through here" dad answered trying to look innocent.
"I did not Philip, don't blame me. It wasn't me Doctor, honestly", mum went red in the face!
"It doesn't matter whose fault it is, you're out now so go and wait in the waiting room for your appointment".
Mum and Dad sauntered off in the direction of the main waiting room. They took their seats as everyone stared but instead of just sitting there taking the shame, mum piped up saying,
"We just got ourselves locked in an office" then went on to tell them all the whole story!
Dad, well he hung his head in shame. My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-55180783332801657722012-01-06T02:38:00.000-08:002012-01-06T02:38:03.143-08:00What's your new year resolution?A new year is upon us, a new beginning to right our wrongs, to make changes to our lives. We're not perfect beings are we? I'm nearly perfect (my father says) but I want to make changes too. I'm not going to call them new year resolutions though as they're always forgotten but I will pledge the following-
• To not start smoking (that's not very likely as I hate the smell and wouldn't pay good money to maybe end up with COPD or any other smoking related illnesses).
• To eat as healthy as possible (chocolate has milk as an ingredient which equals to a good measure of calcium, enough said).
• To do more light exercise (walk to the pub more often).
• Read more (and I don't just mean menus).
• To not use the word diet(unless the words "fried food" or "dessert" are somehow involved)
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://cdn.solidrecipe.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/Easy-Chocolate-Cake-Photos-300x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="300" src="http://cdn.solidrecipe.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/Easy-Chocolate-Cake-Photos-300x300.jpg" /></a></div>
This year I'd like to write a novel, I have the main idea so that's a start. Now the hard work starts!
But what I'd really like to do this year is make a difference to someones life. I don't know who or even how but I'm sure something will crop up. Maybe I ought to have a "problem page" where you readers email me your issues and I'd endeavour to come up with a solution or just let you vent your frustrations, a problem shared and all that!
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEh9P8eW8azive9bmuoETdt7VQVZJ-IpuhcFV1vB5EnqTrEQyOC3tlEqSOe4XtBz3eVu4YcW0KR4xz5_MAnyIhFUsAaKXArrGQPGycCEpEb1nomTqo7kTvbUy69qM3Urp6IsOrDbMTCUp3/s1600/writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEh9P8eW8azive9bmuoETdt7VQVZJ-IpuhcFV1vB5EnqTrEQyOC3tlEqSOe4XtBz3eVu4YcW0KR4xz5_MAnyIhFUsAaKXArrGQPGycCEpEb1nomTqo7kTvbUy69qM3Urp6IsOrDbMTCUp3/s1600/writing.jpg" /></a></div>
Most of all I wish for good health (as mine isn't) for my family, friends and you, my readers!
I also wish for "just enough" because that's all I need. Just enough money, luck and happiness. I'm not greedy, though I'd like plenty of love please (especially from hubs)!
So I'll raise a glass to you to wish you all a happy 2012!
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.zwani.com/graphics/new_years/images/5new-year-5-2009.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="347" width="348" src="http://www.zwani.com/graphics/new_years/images/5new-year-5-2009.gif" /></a></div>My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-17903327169510220482011-12-22T14:51:00.001-08:002011-12-23T10:00:02.828-08:00Will you be having a merry Xmas?Will you be having a Merry Xmas? There are families and friends planning excitedly for the perfect Xmas all over the world. Xmas dinner being organised like a military operation. The turkey's been ordered, the table decorations made and the drinks cabinet filled. No expense spared, a traditional Xmas is what people want so a traditional Xmas is what people will get!
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.victorianpicturelibrary.com/images/preview/FAM19-christmas%20tree-children-decorations.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="329" width="350" src="http://www.victorianpicturelibrary.com/images/preview/FAM19-christmas%20tree-children-decorations.jpg" /></a></div>
Not in my house though I'm afraid. Hubs and son are working Xmas eve from six thirty in the evening until six thirty Xmas morning. They'll arrive home at about seven a.m, we'll open the presents we've bought for each other, hubs will then go straight to bed exhausted and son (age 20) will play with his toys (!) before he can't fight the tiredness any longer so just sleeps wherever he lands!
In the meantime, I'll call my parents too wish them a happy Xmas and thank them for the Xmas jumper they've bought me (I love cats but a red jumper with white cats all over it , hmmm, I don't think so). As I'd of prepared the vegetables etc the day before there's not much else to do but sit and watch the telly (with a glass of sherry in hand), making sure that dinner will be ready for four pm when hubs and son should be awake.
We'll all sit happily tucking into a leg of lamb, (we're not keen on turkey) I say happily, hubs will be a bit miserable, not his fault but because he's still tired and son will be quiet as he's shovelling the lamb and his favourite mashed potatoes into his mouth as though he'd not eaten in days (and I can assure you that he's eaten, oh boy, has he eaten)!
The next two and a half hours pass so quickly and off they go to work again and I'm on my own. Such fun, not!
I'm not complaining though as I'm lucky compared to a lot of others.
•Those that live in poverty who have no money for a slap up Xmas dinner and presents for their loved ones.
•The homeless that rely on centres to open with unpaid good samaritans giving up their own time to help those worse off.
•The men and women away fighting a war, there loved ones miles away trying to make the best of it.
•Widows and widowers alone. Even if they spend the day with family or friends they'll still feel alone.
•Those who've lost a child.
•Nurses, doctors, ambulance men/women, firefighters, security guards and all those that have to work on Xmas day.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://blogs.families.com/media/Alone%20for%20the%20Holidays.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="285" width="360" src="http://blogs.families.com/media/Alone%20for%20the%20Holidays.jpg" /></a></div>
There are many people that will spend Xmas day alone for whatever reason. I know from personal experience that Xmas can be the most magical time but also the most loneliest.
Wherever you are, whatever your circumstances, I'd like to wish you the best time that you can possibly have and remember there's alway someone worse off than ourselves.
If you're lucky enough to be with your loved ones at Xmas then enjoy every minute, eat, drink and be merry (or very drunk).
🎄Merry Christmas Everyone🎄
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.myspacegraphicsandanimations.com/images/merry-christmas-graphic-animation1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="406" width="395" src="http://www.myspacegraphicsandanimations.com/images/merry-christmas-graphic-animation1.gif" /></a></div>My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-12742645363846372332011-12-15T01:51:00.000-08:002011-12-15T10:00:00.857-08:00What's your guilty pleasure?What's your guilty pleasure? Would you admit what it was, or is it naughtier to keep it a secret? If it gives us pleasure then why must we feel guilty? Is it because it's bad for us, is it embarrassing or do we enjoy it more because we keep it a secret?<br />
Well readers, I'm going to tell you my guilty pleasures (and it's not watching the X Factor, I can promise you that) and then it'll be our secret and will bond us forever! <br />
Are you ready? Are you sure? Then here goes,<br />
(1) I buy the yummiest of chocolate doughnuts that money can buy (that's in my local supermarket anyway) I don't share them, I freeze them and when hubs is on a nightshift, I take one out of the freezer and wait patiently for it to defrost. When it's defrosted I slowly nibble around the edge until I get to the gooey bit in the middle, then comes the best bit. I turn down the volume on my TV, pop it in my mouth, letting my taste buds do there thing then I chew then swallow it. <br />
Heaven!<br />
<br />
(2) I like putting brown (HP) sauce on my crisps (USA -chips). Pouring a dollop in the bag, giving it a good shake, and tucking in. The first time hubs witnessed me doing this he looked at me with such horror on his face and shrieked "urgh minging". I was surprised by his reaction, to say the least, as I thought everyone did it! He never got over what I did and horror of horrors it got worse. My best friend came round one evening, we were just chatting and watching the soaps, when I asked if she was peckish she said she was so I brought three bags of ready salted crisps through from the kitchen. <br />
"Oh lovely" (I bet you know what's coming next) Emma said " have you got any brown sauce"?<br />
I squealed and punched the air, hubs was lost for words, and that doesn't happen very often I can assure you!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2009/04/25/article-0-00211CA400000258-826_468x308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="308" width="468" src="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2009/04/25/article-0-00211CA400000258-826_468x308.jpg" /></a></div><br />
(3) If there's ever any gravy left after a roast dinner, and in the privacy of my own kitchen, I drink it straight out of the jug! Well, I hate wasting food (that's my excuse and I'm going to stick to it)!<br />
<br />
(4) I love ice lollies, (especially the orange flavour ones shaped like a pyramid that you buy not frozen called Jubleys). When I reach the checkouts, I say to hubs in a loud voice for all to hear,<br />
"I've got some lollies for the kids" <br />
Hubs just looks at me and slowly shakes his head as if I've totally lost the plot!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sweetsncandy.co.uk/prodimages/lg-jubbly-orange.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://www.sweetsncandy.co.uk/prodimages/lg-jubbly-orange.jpg" /></a></div><br />
(5) When I was a child and I used to help(probably hinder) my mum when she was baking. I'd stir the mixture pretending I was a tv chef. I still do!<br />
<br />
Well, there you go, that's some of my guilty pleasures (not surprisingly all food related).<br />
Were you expecting naughty (over eighteen style) ones. Be honest, you were weren't you, you saucy lot!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://etfonehome.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/secret1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="346" width="346" src="http://etfonehome.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/secret1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Now you know some of mine, it begs the question, <br />
What's your guilty pleasure?My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-12790916666484101482011-12-10T07:06:00.000-08:002011-12-10T07:18:33.477-08:00"Who are you"?Who are you? I often wonder who reads my blog, who you are and what sort of life do you lead? I'm a deep thinker and I think about YOU! Where are you now? At home on your laptop or on your mobile/cell phone? What country are you in? What's your story?<br />
<br />
I'm a people watcher, I could be anywhere and I bring people to life by giving them a story. <br />
Sitting in a cafe there's an eclectic mix, an elderly couple resting there legs, two girls having a gossip, a student reading a book and a mother trying to amuse her daughter. <br />
<br />
Firstly the retired couple, I decide that they've been married for over fifty years, he was a teacher and she worked in their village post office and have one daughter who lives in a different city. They live in a bungalow, that's always spotlessly clean, the well dressed lady enjoys baking and making jams and chutneys which she sells for charity. The gent loves being outdoors, tending to his garden and has a bird table that he keeps full of mealworm, seeds and hangs fat balls of the side then sits in his conservatory reading his newspaper and watching the birds and squirrels. <br />
The two girls, the story i give them is, they're at college and still live at home with mum and dad I've named them dumb and dumber, and they was talking loud enough for me to hear them. Dumb was talking about a boy she was going on a blind date with saying, "I don't know what he looks like apart from he's six foot tall, blonde hair and resembles Brad Pitt" <br />
Dumber says, quite innocently, "he might be Brad Pitt, you never know"<br />
They both to clap, you know, that little clap that only excited females do, Dumb replies "I don't think so, he's with Angelina Jobie, isn't he?<br />
"It's Jolie", Dumber (the cleverer one) says in a serious tone. <br />
"Who's Jolly"<br />
"Her name is Angelina JOLIE"<br />
They look at each other and giggle. <br />
Oh dear, I hope the Brad Pitt lookalike doesn't go for the intelligent type!<br />
My attention turns to the student, a good looking boy, maybe aged about twenty,fair hair but a stylish dresser, I'm guessing mummy and daddy are well off and live in a house with eight bedrooms, they dress for dinner and father and son often wear dicky bows. The student looked at me looking at him so I quickly divert my eyes!<br />
The youngster was sat with a colouring book and crayons that her mum had taken out her bag, choosing the red crayon she was lost in her own little world, just her and her imagination. <br />
Meanwhile, the woman with her, who I assumed to be her mum, pulled her phone out, that had been in her jeans pocket, and unlocked the screen. She had a look of distress on her face, rubbing her forehead and putting a lock of hair behind her ear. I watched her dial a number and couldn't help but overhear parts of the conversation. <br />
"Hi Michael it's me" she paused for a second, "no, I'm not ok, it's the funeral tomorrow, at two o'clock" a tear rolled down her troubled face, she carried on "I'm in the coffee shop, I thought I'd bring Hannah just to get us out the house for an hour, the detective came round this morning to tell me he'd be at the funeral too, thats lovely of him isn't it? I wish you could be there but for obvious reasons you're not" she chuckled a little. <br />
So I decided that she was talking to her lover on the phone, her husband had been murdered and the police suspect her, that's why they're going to the funeral not just to be 'lovely'!<br />
I glance over at the student, he's looking intently at the (widow) woman chatting on her phone, he was people watching too! I wonder what life he gave me?<br />
<br />
Have you ever thought who I am?<br />
Have you given me a 'story'?<br />
So, my dear readers, I'll still wondering, who are you?My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-30221321117135502452011-12-04T15:03:00.000-08:002011-12-04T16:23:05.511-08:00Who will you upset this Xmas?Who will you upset this Xmas? Hubs and I always stress at Xmas. Doesn't everybody? It's all about making decisions. This year stuff the turkey, no seriously, stuff the turkey we're going to have a leg of lamb instead!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://uk.ar-cdn.com/Recipes/XLarge/112260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="250" src="http://uk.ar-cdn.com/Recipes/XLarge/112260.jpg" /></a></div>Deciding on what gifts to buy who, trying to remember who gave you what as a present last year, well you can't give them it back this year can you, can you? No? Oh ok then, I suppose I like magnolia bath cubes anyway. <br />
When you've decided on what you want to buy, you've then got to go out and buy it. I don't think there is a Poundland online is there? So I better fight the crowds.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://soaponarope.com/mm5/graphics/00000001/bathcubes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="260" src="http://soaponarope.com/mm5/graphics/00000001/bathcubes.jpg" /></a></div>I am not miserable about Xmas, off course I'm not but this year I don't have the energy, the motivation or the money. I've spent all our money on wine and raspberry vodka and honey rum and spiced rum and whiskey , oh and a sneaky bottle of port, three different shot style drinks (to warm your cockles on a cold day) and not forgetting four bottles of mulled wine! It's not all for hubs and I off course, heavens no, it's to offer to any guests that may call in over the holiday period. Yes it is, not that we get that many visitors but it's nice to offer them a choice, though most of our friends just drink beer. <br />
Note to self-must buy lots of beer.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.surreycc.gov.uk/sccwebsite/sccwsimages.nsf/weblookupimagebyunid/docidc7a22d647fbe3c748025718c0037ca2b/$file/spirit+bottles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="160" width="251" src="http://www.surreycc.gov.uk/sccwebsite/sccwsimages.nsf/weblookupimagebyunid/docidc7a22d647fbe3c748025718c0037ca2b/$file/spirit+bottles.jpg" /></a></div>This year we made it clear that we wanted a quiet Xmas on our own, in our own home, maybe we came across a bit mean when we told the relatives that this year we had ordered a leg of lamb that serves just three people, (myself, hubs and son) the butcher couldn't get a bigger one, honestly, hmmmm!<br />
I'd like to put my Xmas tree up in the next few days but hubs hasn't been in the loft to get the box out yet, I look forward to just seeing the box, every year when we pack the decorations away we write a message each on it and we spend a few minutes looking back at ten years of messages. It's funny and romantic!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://newsoverseas.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/christmas_tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="318" width="360" src="http://newsoverseas.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/christmas_tree.jpg" /></a></div>So far I haven't upset too many people, only about seven, and it won't be my fault that everybody doesn't want socks and that my mother in law is a smaller size than I realised, I thought the cardigan looked small for its size. Seven's not bad to upset (so far) my record is seventeen but that's another story!<br />
<br />
So, who will you upset this Xmas?<br />
My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-20677033931963391612011-11-30T05:12:00.000-08:002011-11-30T06:57:44.271-08:00What advice would you give to newly-weds?What advice would you give to newly-weds. "Don't get married" I hear some of you shout! "Don't be so cynical" I shout back (I actually whisper as I've got a sore throat)!<br />
I've been married twice myself. My love life would've made a good fly on the wall documentary but I'm delighted to say that my hubs is by far the best thing that ever happened too me (and he didn't have an affair after five years either)! <br />
My advice to newly-weds or those who are moving in together is-<br />
<br />
•Wash the pots together<br />
Then one person isn't left to do it all on there own feeling bitter and wondering how to make dog food pie for their partner. <br />
Also this brings the opportunity for some fun with the bubbles!<br />
Those of you with dishwashers are missing out.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.picturesfromourpast.com/gallery/RightsManaged/20110817/CKSA011_YC191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="393" width="500" src="http://www.picturesfromourpast.com/gallery/RightsManaged/20110817/CKSA011_YC191.jpg" /></a></div>•Never go to bed on an argument.<br />
One of you will find it very hard to sleep and will become even more angry when there partner is in the land of nod as soon as their head hits the pillow, snoring as loud as they can "just to piss you off". While the other one lays awake looking on the Internet on their mobile/cell phone for the ingredients for dog food pie. <br />
Also, it's fun to make up at bedtime! (nudge,nudge)<br />
<br />
• Stop the jealousy. <br />
Jealousy is an awful emotion that most people (not all) grow out of as they mature when they realise it's pointless. <br />
Think of it this way, we all look, maybe even flirt but that doesn't mean we love our partners any less. That works both ways. <br />
If the one you love is going to have an affair then jealousy won't stop them, in fact it's more likely to push them away.<br />
Also, remember that they wouldn't be making this commitment unless they loved you. <br />
Maybe it's time you loved yourself!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://spicyflavours.net/uploads_gallery/1216819297/med_gallery_1350_13428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="512" width="640" src="http://spicyflavours.net/uploads_gallery/1216819297/med_gallery_1350_13428.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
• Respect each other.<br />
If you're annoyed with something they've done then tell them. Don't go title tattling to your friends. <br />
Also, this is a way of getting to know each other and why they do that thing that annoys the hell out of you. Not dog food pies required!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://raindeocampo.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/respect-road-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="330" width="500" src="http://raindeocampo.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/respect-road-sign.jpg" /></a></div>•Make each other laugh.<br />
You have to have fun together, life can be a serious business which needs lightening up. Find your sense of humour and use it. It's a good feeling when you make your other half really laugh out loud, and listen, you're laughing too. <br />
Also, have you heard that saying "laugh them into bed". Enough said!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://operatorchan.org/n/arch/src/n103157_Senior%20couple%20laughing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="346" width="336" src="http://operatorchan.org/n/arch/src/n103157_Senior%20couple%20laughing.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Well, there you have it, that's my advice, take it or leave it! <br />
Just to let you know, I make my hubs laugh loads!(wink wink)<br />
Also I've never ever made dog food pie!<br />
<br />
So, what advice would you give to newly-weds?My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-47628447935956233492011-11-19T03:35:00.000-08:002011-11-19T03:42:08.500-08:00Have you or would you ever sunbathe topless? Have you or would you ever sunbathe topless? I hadn't until last week but something came over me and I decided to see if I was brave enough to give it a go! Up until this moment I'd rather of bungee jumped over a river of snapping crocodiles! Even the thought of it would bring on an anxiety dream, you know the one where you're in a football stadium and you find yourself agreeing to streak for charity and when the crowd start laughing hysterically you realise it's at you and your wobbly bits, and it's live on tv! (no?just me then) But everyone was doing it, mostly the older generation! (oh heck. I hope I'm not perceived as being one of the older generation, I'm only 43)!<br />
<br />
I'm trying not to stare at the other topless bathers or even look there way, it's enough to put you off your cheese & ham bun! I don't know any elderly women who would go topless on a beach, mind you thinking about it, I don't know that many over 65's really well, only my mum, mum in law, my nanna and Gran the rest are old neighbours or the ladies i met when i visited my gran in an old folks home. <br />
<br />
My mum certainly wouldn't go topless, eewww, the thought makes me shudder, mother in law wouldn't even wear a bikini, my nanna, well, nanna's 94 years young and refused to even watch Baywatch, so we can safely say that a topless nanna would never, ever happen! Gran has passed away now, aged 92, she was a really good laugh, in fact we were always giggling at something. She married her 2nd husband,Ted, when she was 74, he also lived in the old folks home where she did. The story was even on the local news. My dad and her other 4 sons all chipped in and bought them a double bed (double eewww) as a wedding present! <br />
<br />
I've realised something, I worked out why people read a book whilst they sunbathe, it's obvious, it's too give themselves a distraction! It's not a pretty sight but I start to have some respect for the old dears. They're fully aware how they look but they just don't care what other people think, fair play to them. We all gain confidence with age and going without your bikini top is the ultimate show of confidence. <br />
<br />
So, now I'm thinking to myself, if they can do it then so can I, but I daren't. Hubs is swimming in the sea so I supposed this was the opportune moment. <br />
"Go for it Chelle" I thought<br />
So first I lay on my front and untie the back of my bikini, then I turn over, convinced I'm being looked at (well why wouldn't they I'm gorgeous!) I slightly open one eye as I gaze around, no one is watching. "relax" I think to myself. After a few minutes I felt fine, in fact I felt confident & liberated, feeling a breeze on my skin where I'd never felt a breeze before (though I was a bit concerned about sunburn), when all of a sudden I hear a camera shutter click clicking right in front of me! Oh my god, I thought, someone's taking my photograph, (I thought it. might be the paparazzi thinking I was a celebrity) I opened my eyes and let out a little gasp as I see this six foot male, with his back to me wearing tiny trunks, (yuck) taking photographs of his family! I chuckled to myself a bit, not much, just a bit!<br />
Another ten minutes had passed and hubs had finished his swim. I must of sensed him coming towards me as I opened one eye <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://nerdfitness.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/daniel_craig_300x400-225x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="225" src="http://nerdfitness.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/daniel_craig_300x400-225x300.jpg" /></a></div><br />
to see him walking towards me in the style of James Bond (Daniel Craig) in Casino Royale (well, the sun was shining right in my eyes so I had to squint a bit).<br />
"I'm not going to mention that you're topless, I'm just gonna say "well done" hubs said. <br />
<br />
I felt a bit exposed to start with but as the days rolled on I became more and more confident, I even sat up to read an English newspaper (The Sun-how ironic). There was no school age children, older teenagers or even twenty something's in the vicinity of where we lazed on the beach. I think then the top would of stayed on!<br />
<br />
So, have you or would you ever sunbathe topless?My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-16916981026203808632011-11-14T03:12:00.001-08:002011-11-14T23:47:41.337-08:00Do we really have to accept it?Do we really have to accept it? I remember when I was diagnosed, how could I forget? I was told by an old consultant, who had no "bedside manner" at all<br />
After looking through my notes and getting me to touch the end of my nose (why? Did he think I'd drank a whole bottle of wine before the appointment), and check my reflexes, he sat behind his desk and said the following words to me that changed my life. <br />
"Well, it could be one of many things, it could be M.E but what's M.E anyway or it could be Fibromyalgia, hmmm"<br />
I sitting there thinking "unbelievable"!<br />
"So what do I tell my husband when he asks me your verdict"<br />
"fibromyalgia, let's stick with fibromyalgia" he said, so matter of factly. <br />
I'd never heard of it so I asked him to write it down for me ( I was so forgetful, yes, even all them years ago)<br />
<br />
Hubs & I left the hospital and I called my dad on what would now be an old fashioned mobile phone, a Nokia 3310 , if my memory serves me right. I told dad what the consultant said and he said he'd heard of it but knew nothing about it. Hubs and I got back home and while he made a cup of tea I put the computer on to google this unknown word "fibromyalgia". <br />
<br />
After reading several websites (I didn't believe the first one), I sat there and cried and cried, I couldn't accept what I was reading, especially the word "chronic" I'd not known before what it meant. For life, it meant I'd suffer like this for life. Over the following weeks I did research after research, I joined forums but quickly discovered that they weren't for me at that time. Everyone was so "oh poor me". Those on this forum told me I had to accept it but I didn't want to. <br />
What does "accepting it" mean to you? <br />
For me it meant giving up, accepting that I had to put up with it and not fight it. I suppose it was a turning point for me. <br />
My research led me to trying food supplements (magnesium & co-enzyme Q10) doing a bit of light exercise and eating healthy fresh food (nothing processed) I watched tv programmes and movies that made me laugh, I was working two jobs but I resigned from one to do more of the other which I adored as it was so manic and exciting, (the first and only female manager at the best racing circuit in the UK) I often worked on Adrenalin alone!<br />
<br />
That was 10 years ago. My life has dramatically changed this year. I thought it wise to leave my job as I felt like I wasn't giving it my best anymore as my symptoms had become worse. I knew I needed something to keep me occupied but couldn't think of anything but one night I was home alone and decided to write a blog, I've no idea where that thought come from, divine intervention maybe. <br />
So, there I was, laid on my sofa iPhone in hand and wrote my first blog. It was short, could've been better but I'd made a start. Everyone I read it too enjoyed it, and there my love of writing began and it's gone from strength to strength. <br />
<br />
You never know where life's gonna take you but I do know one thing, that even though my pain and fatigue is worse now than its ever been I won't give up. Hell no!<br />
<br />
So, do we really have to accept it?<br />
Not me!My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-44515910876973828612011-11-02T03:55:00.000-07:002011-11-02T06:28:59.521-07:00What would be your perfect daily journal entry?What would be your perfect daily journal entry? Mine would go a bit like this-<br />
<br />
Dear Kitty(my journals name, if it's good enough for Anne Frank then it's good enough for me)<br />
<br />
I was woken early this morning by my phone ringing, the caller ID lit up with the name "Michael Bublè", "oh what does he want" I mumbled? I answered with a sleepy "hi Boob, what's up"? He wanted to run a new song he'd just wrote by me. After he'd sang it I gave him an 8 out of 10 and said my goodbyes rather hastily, he tends to go on a bit!<br />
As I snuggle back down to sleep a text comes through from Will (Prince William) inviting me to his Grandmothers house for afternoon tea. I reply with the normal response of "which house"(?), as he always forgets to be specific, the answer I get back is "Buckingham Palace"<br />
<img src="data:image/jpg;base64,/9j/4AAQSkZJRgABAQAAAQABAAD/2wCEAAkGBhQSEBUUEhQVFRUUFBYUFxgWFxYXFRYUFRcWFRUVFBcXHCYeFxkjGhQXHy8gJCcpLCwsFR4xNTAqNSYrLCkBCQoKDgwOGg8PGikkHCQsKSwpLCwsLCwpLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwpLCwsLCwsLCwsKSksKSwpLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLP/AABEIALEBHQMBIgACEQEDEQH/xAAcAAABBQEBAQAAAAAAAAAAAAADAAECBAUGBwj/xABJEAACAQMCBAMFBAYHBQcFAAABAhEAAyESMQQFQVETImEGMnGBkUKhsdEUM1JiwfAjcoKSssLhBxVTotIWJIOTs+LxFzRDc6P/xAAYAQEBAQEBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAQIDBP/EACQRAQEBAAICAwABBQEAAAAAAAABEQISITEDE0FRYXGR4fAU/9oADAMBAAIRAxEAPwD2Lw6fRUytKuuueGFP4NODRVNYtxrAPDpRRyKgxq9jENFR0USaaau0yEbFRANFR6dqz2pgTKaSoe1GFEFOx1VwW7U/ikCYNHpVNXFYcaKIl8HapNYU9BUlWNqtz8Sb+oTNMLdGpVlpDwqRSp0qAeiom3RTUS9AI2abwqmbtMXq+QglLw6QuU5u0ESlMVp/Epw9PIHoqQWpVEmmoTCoRU9dDY1qJTE0NpqZqBFaiU0mlrpgKWmtMr5WolKkTUS9cHVEpUg9Da5QWu10nG1i8pFomgsaF4x7VJSTvV6Yz3lS0mohTRFp9RpuGFatmc1Z0VVF0g0fXWOWt8cTApiYpzQ2rLSSvNSqt4gFDHFGcVucLWLzk9rsU9U24phuKgeNar9dT7IvzSms/wDTDTfpZp9fJPt4tAtTG5VFuKoR4wzHek+Orfl4r7XaC1yhm5UPEFWcC84KXpC5S1rHShHiFqzjb+JeUn6MGp9VA8YVMGpeNJylTBoqGq5qWqpY1Ksaqg1yglqdWqdV0Wm0UyOKn4gqKbw6XhUUODTMabTAjYoeiji5TSKstTEmFDNHKUkt5rMuLYCOHPwoqWAM0WlS8rTIr30nbpQFWrxWoeEDVnLPCXj+gKKmTU/0cUjYpbFDFEtpUvDpoiop2NAL5ohaq9yrIlG8NWpWuHAODVTWaIlw1rLntjZvpdK0xUUAXzUGck1nrWtiF7hZby0fh+EAyd6ZEPerA9a1edzGZwm6Rtg9KzOZrpa0QN3Kn4G3cP4qK0WftVO+CSDGx+/Swx8ifrWeN8tcp4VwRO1WV4MGNQ+/8aVkCds0c3DXXlzv45ceE/VPiuB0iVM95qpFadSxV4/LZPLPL4Zb48MoLRPDNXVtAGSKfQJrV+VmfCqLNEJNHZKEbAqdpfbfSz0gGpjRltelGWzis3lI1ON/Ve1UyKMLMUtPpXO8tbxBBTkVF7kb0xerlXYRp5p1tyJFLwzUFo0gaYtQOM4kIjMY8qk5wJAwJ9Tj51hoW/xKopZmCqBJJMAD1NZPGe1/DoupWN30tDWR8cwPmaxOOc3M3WJY5VVwqf1F7/vHPw2rl+Y83s2UZdekkhjgtMSPezOZ61NHb2v9oXDEwVvL/Wtn/KTRl9tuFn9bHxS4P8teTcR7SRGhGPqRj7sde4qnf5nxD9dIP7OPqFM/eauj2+37WcIxgcRbnsWg/QxRT7RcNMePa/vr+deCDh7ke8fqNJz1Eb4Bn1qxZ5lctjzoHXuR/GJ+s1B7twvOLVxiqXEYgxAYEzE474PSrRBNeJ8FzOw+kgKrSCBIEkHYEfhM131n24Mb2CYmJuIe8bNVHWspqBPeubT25BWWRB/4pn/04+pqTe164m22dtL22H+IVYje1U+sdqxh7SJ1t3R8kb/A5pWvaey23if+VcP+FTW8Z1rl+1TtGsge0Fgn9YB/WDr/AIlFWLXObB2v2v8AzE/OlSNU+lCNyql3mttRPiJHowP4VmcV7SROhGeI2DNk7YUHuOvWseJ7bbLk9KBcV/v/ADrm34vi73a0vYmD13VST8ia5/iuHvhm032HmP7Sn/lbFanPE669Ht2SMk1YQzXlw5vxqCPHJA2JYnHqXVpof/1A4m0fNdttPcJHzIUfdS8tJxx6oRSUV5xw3+0LimBPh23gTgZ+cXPvir1j2/vA+fhx8tQ/6qmmO9wRtmoMhoPL+OW9aS4AV1qGgyCJ6GattEUUMXe4oi3RQGqM0xNGLU2uh66XiVcNT1GpB6Ct2DTm/TDRGoek1Hxatq3Wno9nt7U7VBrlCa6ay0OVrjPbbm9u1cXUT5FmNWNRJ0+XYH1ie012s15t7X8k4fh+I8Qh2LLrCsxYAznQDnMTn69KzRz9/jeI4mSg8O2JlmwDjaDv85+ApcV7N2ktln87SJZ2joe4J+sbUfiL928GVR4agWyP+JpaZjpG2wAraXgQtsnPnznP2SMfz3rCuLHA8OBJ0AD1GPup14bh2nSVMbw0xO0/T7qs809n1CySILbREb9Z9Kzv9xoFMQPL8Yn5mqLVvl9n9r0w4mfhM1NuVJ0dvqD/AB9KpLyW3PlOZHVu4JievwpzyGSZzB6kwI9IO9FNf5FGdX/Kp+HSo8DbvIvldT8f9av8v5Iy6MmIiAx6AxjtTWbNzPnMacDSZGMHV1poZL/EDop/u/8ATUzxl/rbB/n0in4EOT5mx/V70/HM6xpKnGfLHWrqGHM7oJm0fkP/AH06c7cH9W475I/CaMivEym3rMx+E0HhOJdyRC4/eNXRNfaSCCVuAjYyxj4eX1qY9pxkFrmf2pI+hMUPir7IQNMz2PXtv8KJrbSSbZEd9OR3GPypod/aC0SJ0GMeZEP4nNSHN7PdAJmAsQZn7PrQLbhhItk9NhVZntliCm0/ZnbqI/nNNMbVr2ot2zJbERE3CP7pJFZPMPavUx8NVyZklepnIBqsbVpGUlY/s/LvVuLVxmi2cScqBj7qaYziTdk3Ln9nUPoAfyFF4axaDTCsP32gk+k4gD17/Gq/Gvwi+9qE9kb86ibnCoMxnbDzMDfTNFE4fl7BzoYKQZEGR3kFdpx2rT4T2ge2wW+PTUBv8YIH4VmH9H3a8FnYB7mKsry22QYvErjdpAnaZpqY7/lftigRVCFgqgSGXp3DRpPoa0l9srZxpuf/AMz+D15XY4V0Yi26x0lemJyMb1c8TiBuUPxx/Ctdmer0z/tXa/fHxR/4A0v+01qfej4qy/4gK8z/AE2+Psof7VEXmt4f/i/ut/7qvdOr0G97UqGgaGHcXE/CrlnmgdQRGRMSCR9DXmh51djzWrnx1T+dQXnQG9p87+XV/lqznnsvDXobc8tyRryN8MPxGflQ7ftFZO15PmdP+KK4PhPaFEcEKwJBEaIn6VR4n2hdsIGTuWVifkANq19tT63rHCc2tscXLZ+Dqf41s2OJkYM/fXz7rbc3PNM+YNHzkV0/sN7Vpa4jTcVRrXw9SLJJkESEydjsPkM1m8uxOPV64zzQ2YVWXi6Rf1Fb6J2Wlvt+ya5T2q4u294A5Kq9uNMw5IIzsBB39are0nt66Po4fwtI0nxXJKk/aQJ5Z3GQx+FYNm47hHZi7Pca4xJYxKqBAYkqNoB6RXDnynpvjKlavvK5AEBGCyFbQTBbVkmR/r30OCWBcPdh/wCmDk9ck1Us8MdzsGJ+TM0fjWnbtaUJ/ahv+Ur/AJa5xtlc6E2v7Q2wRvWLbt+Qjfynfc5OPWt3mlubYH7w/A1mokBpj3Y2jvW2VLg+Fi4ZMg5A0qADqEQQAdsZqXEWT4oMwJEjTM5z5pxiBVxOEIM46bAg5PxqDcOSx236zP408L5aXAoAigdPyNc/a4srdVDcHmEAY1GBJBxtg59K6HhjAT4j8K4niuaot8N4ba7TMon3XbSQsQJ6k/OpJpa6O7xDhCUgER2g+hJBj6Ulv3GQFyJPbp6SAJ+lQ5a/iWQ2kgsqtAO05waPcsQgmR8YJ+6ggOMueJohNPfTn4bzT3nKqSqgmdiJn7xRDa8856do6ev8KGludYg7jb408KQPiBSyKvWB2xvk5+dMOM1FkNtRG5BP3SM0QCAvTpnB6UhbALHOfQ+vWIoA/pKWwPITJ3BIz8ADUmKgltJBiTBkj59ag9uVXOxnYnGOwNTcSSP3f4UAUZbhBgx3OOsHrV7m2izBC+9jBjtVTh7eAJ9Ov8a2eLUEjE4oOX9o+WodMACUB3zvExVXmfL1PljdFxInIyQD02zWtz1JZP8A9ZH0M0PmfvpkT4K9c/nVRl8x5QpKn91O0xW2/DW7Squf6VY2B7b+maqcwtEMh72V/Otm9w4dUJE6Vx6HG1Bj8TykK+lWyD3g5APT4VY4rhNSjQwkdnk7dqJxS/0zGN9B/wCQD+FNYtaWcxGeswfh9elBHiODYJ5WaRH2wR2OOn+lPxPB3AgZSwONwsdfzH0p/wBHAZ2A7fDOf5ioi1DsQOg+uJ/n0oH4qzcFsEEziZVY271G+lxVEdd5UjHpBqQtwzETGPh3P40lB1MdRidpkD+ZoCcLwzalJA945AbG2nfrvVLmD37ZOhVI1HJDbT0APrv6da1eWKwLhiSVeIM4HQVHnS+5GPM0/QEVRkf7wvgibawR+9M474+6tr2BZrnFEvaCwj5E9wMYn+TWethtV4jcaoiT1B/k4rd5DzReFTxX1MF1SBEnUYETA3NJcupfMdr+jj4UK5Zj7W9edc4/2s3HQLbteExbLQWlR0Wevrn0iq3E/wC0XimVCPCU6TqBt4mTEaj2it/+njHDINZ4NFGqCWxLHeSyj3jJPvfdWiOIA0eUkOpgqMKYQZk7YOf5Oda5koWAoBOPqyjse4PTapPxBLWyftMMDuUUjv8AjXj4+3t5LdnjLhZdWgBlVGUS0lMyD9n4Ht64ucsMKyyxhsaoxKlvL6eaM9qocMhlTECbhk7QC1XuDYDV6Hpk/q42Geh+hrrGAebT4flJnUDgx361U4Uk6tYPbJmPh9ascw4kBc4jOQRjacj1qpavqxaDtmACesGe3T61vGN8q9jhYcNBmd53yMH03+tGvXG1nTIBjYrgz60w4tMDYjfB6EHoM7Gk1wLknDEQSCJiZie1MNq9wuAgJ6jMda5/iONVeKtaLWklroiAA7eBvqUfvbntW3w3EqSo+DYz1gjHyrneK4n/ALxY7eJcHw/ovuyDUi1sm+wSQdBOTAmJ6KTtHeqtjjRqh7wYYCgldW5zqJltyMCp8S39GYZST2YA75qNnkcPJgalDQVj3XuCWIGenrSAtzjXNzT4kHouk6YgmGxnHWaI/EMoYqQDOSRqjp5R8x0NBLf0pMiI3kRsRP8APep8S40mGUyRsZOCDmoulwvEFlBZtYJ8rRBI9cVI8Y+vSSgHUaXBjAkGPUdeoodgjSqgqCANyBVcclVrhcqsEvHlUgmbZn3SDu2T39aqat8TxZtqNJUAz5mEmR0A2j1qYuEDUQJjImF/OKFxpACiVO5wQfsn8vvo1xwVOVmCNx2jaoqoOIYyZU7wV2B7Qex/Ct3imyPhWF4sKFGGk9gRkx862rt4HM7YJMgfWKoyecOYQAjKmQd4EZHwoHM2/VwQT4SiNiRBmPh/GrXMlwCIbSDMdJ6/ChcUAEtkZISDuYMDEn+cVUNzJjptgac2hjYwBuK1lfyj4fwFZPFCUQg6iLcEDJBjbb+YrRsXgVEMNh8Nu8UsAOOlrsACNKnVPxEEfKoLeliNEdzImQftDp6UuNEXM41KsE4mJMiekGhWgNbmVBPWR3J360B/0oa9ISOhaRmPTt60rnEDVp0NtlpESOw7etBCr4jGVk6QTIGy96chdbGVnA3G0d6ApvgtpCttBYnyyPQnb1qHFcUQDoRiQJkk6SQcgASfpvTY1tlZIAmR0Hep8Nw4a4QCuo4MZIjPm+lAP2dvtJQoqqJjSrASHIIzAGx6T3q9zIiMzvjfePSlw/DLad4BXW0+bqxhmg+k7etD5nBEkjDA7joCOvxqjO5teglRb1TJJLlVEEEgQpJwfTfrT8xvF+W3SRpOCRkkRcXuF6egq6OVC54hJJVlEldyIIwZ6VS5wAvB3bedRtwFg6tQAYCPlvRHBniwD3Pc5I+dBe/q+1t8apNxB6bfAfjUAT0/KuX1xzx2A5q4GzdPtN0zFa3s/wA3YnzKzFWlQZKiF66o7ftDauW5by8iyfK369Oh2x91dTyC1oYgiJZo6dPyrM5eXpzw07PM7hIVbYWbRMsROktBU+9kwaNNx0aWCiYIQkSI1CSNM/Tqagkhhg/qRt3DGriPKEEbGNt/Kd/uq9kxnXLVxV98x/WY/drqrwyvcnzuB/aU9I67Vo3hg7fSswW2cqdJ8rAQCBhhBb3oIHzO8CavZMVb1pluaddyTsQXjP7R6bdTU71p7aqS1w/HWw2zgHFD4nj7y33tpatlRgEsSzDBJgMOvX4Vb5nwbFUATcgsQSANMY96c/Or2MGPEAQmohhgkFhucCAZ7fSsnjzov2FOkRdbLYXKN7xae/Wul5j7PWEuHSi4UECMHE/l9K4PieKniLZub+IhOkxgofdA26Vbv4y7K3rEPptuBkBQpDZ6dxP4UPiubcRqnQBIGoQPMNIzvgkRjpWPwN5rdwNbKiRZDbb3HjboxGa6vjjououkbKCZME4BJz3E/wDxSb+lxki+wZV0qC6zGgEAZMMwwNutDbmCBtPi2QQf2ZXvOqI6CsfmN9vHdWLQusQDGpFY6RAGeuD6VV5k+sKFlAPEBgZYKEYgDp/pms2/y06t7T4YC2w7gLkRspjOKbjebX5XyBBlRhTKzAWNWIwPX51yvAFrLAqzxqcKCRIwJbIifMRPpXaWrZbh7TNBZhqLbGDmPXc/WrxqVntfIQO3hoPXTImYkz6GiI8gGbOkxnyZg96yPaC5p4k4nYACQQgYEgHfqc+tR4FT4oX3dbIGBUEkG44ElhkgRnrVu6eF25xuu6NGiZzIGrr7pnbbArTVbn/EMdiXI+9zU+O4a3bBIVU84GAOoZgBAx8PQUMcan7Y6dDvHwpbhAuMuXFUx5pEDJAn1E+b7qwua+0FywqhiCznyjz+6O4LYzW9xvNUVJDBojHmG5jeK5H2n4dL122/iKnkAiHP2mOJAp2g1eX81uXRrSBAyJeTjcHV3rV5d4pXzGO0ax0ggif5isjlLW7NokOGgNurAROJrY4fmyFAZPyVj+PWnaGIfo5LHKkhjuvop6HJzuc1K3aYsVgYAOop5TPbPSjcQVtMHE6bo14DEkxBkMxjbpFBHNF1mfEgxA0gDb45ppiRsvr06RETq0+We2+/507JnRrTUYxp/wBfSgcXzdQS0XQAoxA0/Heue4XiLf6R4s3WdiDsokEQBv6U7GOm/Rn1xiCJ1aRE9t/Si8t/+4uKzGAupyhKsfIx0zJj3fvrKuc+0PlbhJYIFJAGoiYIA7VscW+pLLqH80oy6iQwn1MCdsDvV0R5xy7w28QM7KLYcBmLMJ0yFJgR3+Xzw+L5leYgi6Vkt5RDJhWI1FgdZlck/Kur45y9h2b3vCYZx942239a4q5y8oFGPM5+2R9h9zpHfemaOi9nuai6Raui6GaYKXCLQxPlAyCc4OBG+1VOI4fw2UMzEu5EgMZ6FnMb+YSdqh7O2ily2ABGph5WJ2tuewEfCtXnPC6rlodCt4kdzCkR8zSTwOJ1WQT/AEa+7rOLmFIB/iPrUbli0yqdCoDJEB5IPeQf5NWnvSWHgqSbZBHnnSBsfNjagXOOOlALSQFwPMIB23fNYl5VqyA8NxTG3uZ19zEDTJ++tXhlYXFlgTqJEMSQCsgj5D76r3bqLAwQVZgAMFh8R8OneaBw3Go5RSgDnd5MN5DiD8RnHWtTh+4lv5rdt3CSPMf1M7nvVuwkqxDMYbMEwCFmDHWs8cY17iGuBFZvDt3QrAHVhRoYMYOIbPQ1i8Xyx3aHYLp1aYSfKbgAEEyDqenWaXxNdNxKHSctsZye1Q4ZRnSW2O7L0x0rK4Xlri14RQwA8NoX3nJ+zrzAjPpEVHiOBbWfCttoVj5iythCVZQSPdkEj069auJP61C7wt39KuHS3hmdLASCQFnI33rX4lLcKCeuIZf3vj2igJJKjIQWzc3C7lRkyQAB370uY8sjQyWSWUTcPiNBDsEQkCIgsF8uTr+dXNSOs4hv1ekyvhAzI92MH4HavNuMcm9b0xOu1BBlZ0wB5cg/A9K6S9zW/cEoClxlFozI8yO5dRuZMuOpyKxL3N1BtG3a0+BdRmOF1FGPXTJjInpWpE8KNixcFxfE1hrRtGGkaVLbwRgSRn1r0rmvCNcvIy+7gMewBLSPjtj0rl7nMeIvOyhUJvIUYkEMLeHElTJjxV3MGMgkCt63xF0uy5AVUI2xqNwH5eSpaY5b2gtleIOooNa3GXIMhrpCgg4Db4rPs2LnEEC2UDKDKtpEs0LpUEeYkxuT8RWpx/K7mq7eDICni+UGHOpBOnoevTeaDy72dZWtXtQ1CHgH7W6mdpqWcfbU30bheW3mvpbKgsxuKoUrEqCGHlO8gbn5xXV2+JVbC6jBS2XPUwPI6gd8Vn8TZuuFCgW9M5E6iW0yZk5BBI/rRQj7OcRNttWCrIHLDAZpggmSARuR0pkk8NfvmAcwcPxTlShVGFsTBHmXUD/VGggnoSMUuXPNxXuHQJtlZAlmW5lYXMy4+E1Z43kq3Tl/MqeH5dB6ky3Vstv2iiWOTW7VxnRml00mNJxKnquPd6d6uxOlXfae+LdkvIyykTtIR8fM/jWJw3EtcS46WmiwC1zqABKj4ZiQcwD2rSv3hrCMNa6GaGCnzK9sAiRA94+sx8Knc4dDsbqqbhuOoJi4TPvdo1Hb9r0g52L1uemFz++FsIylLi3ArEqYKe66hlyRIPWOuMZzOa2rd21bebi3IjTpBQrBfDSDq3xHT1rqeE5Vw6NqW23QAFzChZECBnc7zRuIvKLtkC2sBnYTLHWFlTMdIq9pEvDlWLyrgi9hg/kBtnQYJ1sw1Ku2MA5onBG6tj9W/lUsYBn1wRj17ZroLnFBjq0rMliQdy2oHpsdTVl+0NxmtqUhCjhvLI1DquPSTnGDTjZbi3hZFni+IW6/D29RAZmSSNLQr6R23BOZjHrWHxVu5pYggxcCqCwBKnU069QAgKQcDf4Vd4hSi3Lgc6kd2TYhdWCFkbZODMVc567XLDpIGrSsgDEuo+NXtIdbYr8fyJjaVlAYlDrGdQ8zISUmQFA1EiPeAE1WtcttC7rUXRZSwIJ9/wAUW5PTEPjbp2rQ5faum0l/WMW7amZ1MoKFySBg6vD6zg96ufphzmJJMA4yZ/HNS85PS9bXOjg3K+YQ/iBkMZKgeddvh9TWhwl1iVDIVW0WaCCNRLDQpAgjZhucKfnp8n5rCcQjljquMBkGMKwyTgSenc0Xj+YeJddxqAZiRJzBOJgxU11yZknn+f8AX/emNwnMbq2lfiUuEDXr99RpKMiEg4IBYHuZO8Cn4flDl+IQBWdAptBmuHTA0HToECAGbUxAHUZq1xKgqZG2R6EZBB6EHM1Ws3z4NvSzKzrbB0sVLyoYq7AgkGOvWKTk53hn6u8h4Nbt2+6hUNnwTbW5qdTr8XVKjuvofc2zVbm3EXTctlYAVwpBOIltZ9RCiheGzWgkkSALkMZfcaWI3EMxz/GatLYXSFjAAGxgQIxNW8l48fKk3AO/vtONGqWDqinUpUydbYjMYY4FUuD4C9Z16Dq1OdyR5RGk5PWTjpFb0U8HsaT5LPS/XGWAtx3kWhoLWwBqA0slsk4cZ6SI60Li7ITzqUBNxDEGPN/Rft7AOTH8MVr8HwliGdb8i4dYwBjSF2Jn7PUDen4vl9l1gXo8ythC3usGjy/Cs6xkZt22YUDwm0KAAQYMR70NmYUnedO1E5QvicVouQRNsELOQxV9Iz+1bUYHetZeCtnZ2P8A4dz/AKaByFLf6bcg3SUe0CPBaJCk4IkjB6gek1Zy8lkW+a8VouNpGk+9DktAIwBqGoZBxJHaKyuA4tjYXKgOpYgBcG5LMBIMZY/CtjmXDI5BJYHwlUllIkZYHzkftmqXBcli2qiX0qFkC3mBH/Epyu1OOZ5H5RaRjpuhHUWfD0vBUqCu4gA+6N+sVY5uzeENJUK7FdP9RjI2MAMqkR2rG4Thy3Ek6Sv6LcZGHklw9qMice8D1rR4ngrlw+5biSVljOliWgjSYOTmczsIrV5TrjOTtrnxxtzUVSdXjXftsPs6mPTuTg1yntCjpdZThSS4GDgloz1+ddbx3J7lllbyf0nEhRGowLulY2H7J+pxVPnvs1xD3CRw+sQFBVlUQM7EyMk1njcdvm5ceXHj19yef80Fbgt8LZKKC7WWIZm8o91nLCcx0+FV+D5kwVLha02khCBqhkYyZUqCCsHzDt9QHh74DoyEC1ZbyllYIGV46xkgT8M1m2LRCSdyoOIA82vaOkLWuvbxrnPknHzY9HYggiBBBHyNTsXSgAXEAAdcDA3+FVOGPkXJPlGTucbmizWMdR2vycx9KNzK4lzh0t6wSrBoKvo+0NIIznVMgb1Tp6zhfIPA8uIINy7aJjZdYHacjcwDtgzV5eHMCXtTH7aj8aBSqmX+UuI4AkavISBEh02lSev7o+lc61i6xMLcOTGVP8DW94Y7CpBf5mrLjPLheRW7LIkspUCSSVgATMnECo3+a8O2oqACbn9HDKQgAcMszkmQBRAzQRqaDuJMVFbS48lsxtNu2c98rvWW5snoC3z3xn9wLMsIU52GTkDA79TWryxUJc3ACFQtkTsQNvgaq2GRCCLFmRiQgBA7CNvpV1eZoAdNoAspU77GJgD4VOXrx7Z8/sUOKtAlhAIJOCBtPWok/wAxSvXyzYt6R31fgOgpprX92ov2L6LaZC4kzAAxnTltojT2O9Z6cRMxMTGQRPqPSnmm1VJkMpxPTE5Pqac3G7n61DVS1VdXEix7n60wPrTTSouH1nufqabWe5pqammJSe9Kmmm1U0xY9nuI/wC62Ys3D/RIJDW1BgASJcGMdq0PFuHay3zvIPwmsblHMms2LdvQSUXTMqAY2+1Vw89fpbHzf8lNYvDjb6cZa0Ve7/wkHxvE/hbNYvKHuHiuNGm3l7OoFnK/qyIEKJwOsVYPObh+wg/tH/pFUeHd0u3LgI1XdOoRI8ogRBHSrOMhdbq2bmYNlZJJ023JJPUy+T8qQ4B9zdz6IF+9Cp++s3/eN3uv90/xaoni7hOX+ir+U0kOtP7PW2F/jFD7Xk6STNveWJPTrNbnhnq7fLQP8tc2iQzMCQXMsQYLEbExUyx6sx+LN+dX2TjVj2mtwlrLmOJssct7oJkwO3etF7toblT8SG/GaxStIGqvU7lTxF9jm3espaIUH7IYNMgCCGNY932et7IHCwBDuIgaowASfebqN62Jp9Vals9J0n6Bw/DFRBadukbCAPuqwFpppTUbxLTSqM0poqRNIVGaWqoqRpVGaWqgnSmoeJTeJUxdEpGhG5S8SmL2EJpqh4lNrpianSNQ102urhqdNUC1LVTE1OaWqh6qbVTDRdVNqoeqlqq4aJqpiaHSJpholPSpVkhUqVKqHpqVKiHNNSpVRGpUqVAqQpUqBU9KlQMaVKlRSNOKalUCao0qVVD01PSoGNMaelVDClSpVAxpqVKgeo0qVAxp6VKgVKlSqhqkKVKg/9k=" /><br />
<br />
I tell him I'm pleased about that because I fancied a bit of shopping in Harrods(my son will only eat their brand of peanut butter) & Harvey Nicks, I'll probably hit Oxford Street as well. William asks if Catherine (his Mrs) could come with me, she's a good laugh so I told him she could.<br />
I woke up hubs and congratulated him as he'd not snored or fidgeted constantly like he normally does!<br />
After showering and a breakfast of Eggs Benedict, freshly squeezed orange juice and coffee, still in my bathrobe, my beauty therapist arrived to give me a full body massage before jumping into the jacuzzi. After my pampering session, I went into my walk in wardrobe and grab the first outfit I see, my hair had dried naturally and my make up took seconds to apply.<br />
"You look totally gorgeous" hubs complimented, "you don't look so bad yourself" I told him. (We are the mutual appreciation society)<br />
My son drove us the short distance to our smallish aircraft where our pilot was waiting (nice bloke called John Travolta).<br />
<img src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ38TCppjeg0IFhhdGbc3pzbLgpmyHjThZc9UsEIubQ4VcvBXXbfw" /><br />
<br />
We arrived in London half an hour later, the car was waiting, and we were soon in the big city <br />
I met up with Catherine, and we shopped till we dropped (I didn't know she liked shopping at Primark). We did have a slight argument though, I wanted a KFC but she wanted a chicken nugget happy meal from McDonalds. Catherine won though because her bodyguard wanted a Big Mac (I joked with him saying that I thought he was "coming out" and wanted an overweight Scottish man as his boyfriend)<br />
<img src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRKYjEXzJzcR4Y7ExEzuD1M-MANqfvbeLMNRZMB7cpMBSp8dMj6" />.<br />
<br />
After the retail therapy it was time to pop in and see the queen. We were a little early and she was vacuuming the west wing, Catherine made her jump as Elizabeth was grooving away, whilst listening to her iPod, singing "Radio Gaga". The queens maid brought us some tea and battenburg cake as we sat down for a good old gossip. I had to laugh when Lilabeth (that's what I call her) was telling us a story about herself and Prince Phillip. The previous day they'd been dining with some dignitaries from Japan when Phillip started singing that 80's hit "turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese, one really thinks so"! Oh Phillip, another gaffe!<br />
In the evening we dined at The Savoy, lots of friends had joined us, then onto the West End to watch "Wicked"<br />
Ricky Whittle tagged along as he has a huge crush on me!<br />
<img src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS7TZh9aMu1GpTnwfcMpK19_UgH-MS1vbTKvCwshXbr9ZcKngJNNA" /><br />
<br />
JT flew us home after that tiring day and we were snuggled in bed by midnight.<br />
<br />
Yours<br />
Michelle <br />
<br />
So, what would be your perfect daily journal entry?My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-63580011163921466922011-10-30T16:45:00.000-07:002011-11-01T15:49:55.299-07:00Do you prefer summer or winter? Do you prefer summer or winter? I much prefer summer, there doesn't seem to be as much laundry to wash or iron, maybe that's because clothes are smaller, it's also easier to dry the clothing, bedding etc! (I sound like my mother)!<br />
<br />
Summer is the best! Listening to the birds singing, watching the wildlife in the garden (now I'm sounding like my Dad), barbecues, sipping wine while socialising in the garden, feeling the warmth from the sun in your face, lazing on the beach, music festivals, long country walks, summer gives us the opportunity to live. We live life to the full when's the suns shining! Warmer weather just makes us feel better, brighter and more motivated. We jump out of bed in the mornings, have a cool shower, throw on little shorts and a strappy top let our hair dry naturally, all tousled and sexy, bronzer, lipgloss, mascara a light summery perfume, it's easy! Isn't it?<br />
<img src="http://www.daisygreenmagazine.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/iStock-summer-happy-woman-600.jpg" /><br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe in the movies! My reality is different. I wake up sweating as its far too hot! I drag myself into the shower, moaning that I've got to shave my legs and underarms, then it's time for the daily rummage in my wardrobe hoping I'll find something that (a) matches (b) hides my lumps and bumps (c) isn't a colour that shows wet patches under my arms when I get too hot. I attempt to dry my hair with the hair dryer on the coolest setting as I'm perspiring more now than I was before I showered! I then choke on the copious amounts of anti-persperant deodorant I spray hoping that it'll do the job I want it too, knowing full well that it won't.<br />
Summer is painful, especially when I've fell asleep sunbathing in the garden and I awake to a bright red and sore nose and shoulders. Well,I couldn't stay awake as I can't sleep at night because it's far too hot and stuffy! Roll on winter!<br />
<br />
Oh winter, the nights snuggling up on the sofa with hubs in front of the fire, the flames dancing, hypnotising, bringing us the sense of calm and contentment, knowing all is well in our world. Feeling cosy in our beds with the highest tog duvet that we can find. Drinking hot chocolate, morning, noon and night. Enjoying hearty homemade soups and stews, not minding when we gain the odd pound or six, it just assists in keeping us warm under the cuddly big wooly jumpers. Winter is very romantic isn't it? No?<br />
<img src="http://labho.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/winter.jpg" /><br />
<br />
Winter is NOT romantic, it's freezing! I wear thermal everything, yes even long johns! I climb into bed at night, hubs starts to complain, he doesn't think it's ok for me to put my cold feet on him, I remind him that he vowed when we got married "to have and to hold, keeping your feet warm, for better or worse" etc etc.<br />
It's nearly impossible to get out of bed in the mornings, it's far too cold, "put the heating on" I hear you say, hubs says its not cold it's just my imagination! I wear so many layers of clothes I can hardly get out of a chair, and I'm sick to the back teeth of soup!<br />
Whenever I attempt to leave the house first thing on a frosty morning, when the pathways are pretty, glistening white with frost, I can guarantee I'll slip over, and it always has to be in front of a crowd of people, that's right, I always have to have an audience of schoolchildren, well I suppose it cheers them up, it's obvious when you hear the sniggers!<br />
<br />
So readers, have you decided, do you prefer summer or winter?<br />
Give me autumn (fall) or spring anyday!My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5594837162728646182.post-4053607620004605712011-10-14T00:11:00.000-07:002011-12-12T15:12:35.556-08:00Jack Marshall-we've been touched by an angel.Jack Marshall, we've been touched by an angel.<br />
That's how I feel, when I first started following Jack I couldn't of imagined for one minute how that" lil man" would effect me, as well as thousands of others. Jack filled me with so much emotion I wrote my first poem about him. I took a screenshot of many of his photographs to show my family and friends whilst I raved about what a brave and inspirational young man he was. <br />
I'm full of gratitude and admiration for Jacks family for sharing him with the world through Twitter. He had a massive following of over eighty-five thousand. "#Jacksarmy" as we became known are all now aware now that Brain Tumours KILL more children & adults(under 40)than ANY other cancer. I didn't know that before. <br />
No words can express my deep condolences to his family. As a mum myself I can't begin to imagine what Tracy, his mum,is going through. But I'm sure through her grief she feels immense pride for both her sons. I also hope she realises how Jacks Army has united together to send her, Jacks dad , brother and family so much love. <br />
Jack Marshall changed our world, we've been touched my an angel. <br />
<br />
Update 12 December 2011<br />
I've decided to post the poem. It certainly wouldn't win any prizes but I wrote if from the heart. So for the sake of losing my first very amateur attempt here it is-<br />
<br />
Soon we'll have to say our goodbyes<br />
For now at least<br />
Tears will flow<br />
When you have to go<br />
You're much to young to live this life<br />
Cruel and painful, hurt and strife<br />
We've gained so much<br />
While you've pained so much<br />
<br />
The love from you, to you<br />
All consuming but I crave more <br />
More smiles, more words<br />
Your hand on mine<br />
Keep it there forever<br />
Until the end of time<br />
I can't say goodbye<br />
Im thinking it <br />
As I can't speak <br />
You'd hear my cries.My Funny Old World!http://www.blogger.com/profile/08801264700340929970noreply@blogger.com0