When do you recharge your batteries?

When do you recharge your batteries? I get the chance overnight even though I'm still being used!
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).
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).

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!

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.

Chelle uses me for many tasks including;
•Using the Internet
•To play games
•Sending text messages and emails
•Supermarket shopping
•Making lists (she has a lot of those)
•Keeping her diary
•I fulfil her app addiction
•Watching live tv
•Watching catch-up tv (every night, as it helps her to get to sleep)
•Taking photographs and videos
•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.
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?
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!

So, when do you recharge your batteries?

Am I too old for a tattoo?

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)!
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.
As the day grew closer I realised that;
(a) I hadn't chosen which tattoo parlour to use.
(b) I hadn't decided on the design.
(c) I'd be in New York
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.
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.
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.

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!
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!

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.

Or am I too old for a tattoo? 

What makes you laugh?

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.
"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"!
Well, as you can imagine I couldn't stop laughing, hubs just smiled and walked away embarrassed.

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!

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.
All of a sudden Keith threw his hand to his head.
"What was that" he exclaimed? He looked at his hand, "uuurrrggghhh"!
A bird had pooped on his head! We all looked up but it was so misty you couldn't see a thing.
I burst out laughing and so did the lads!
"What were the chances of that happening? Maybe you should have worn a hat"!
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!
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!

I have more amusing stories but I’ll save them for “What makes you laugh pt2”

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!

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!

Whatever your sense of humour there is nothing better than laughing, well they do say it’s the best medicine.

So, what makes you laugh?

Do you have a special place?

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.

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! 
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. 

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.

 When I'd left home and had my son, I'd often take him there. We'd pick up the autumnal leaves, watch the

squirrels scuttle about climbing the trees. He'd play on the swings etc and we'd feed the ducks.

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.
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!

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 

The Boultham estate originally belonged to the Ellison family.
The hall was rebuilt during 1874 and was often thrown open for garden parties, galas and fetes.
After 1909 the house became vacant due to the owners death.
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.
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 1959.

 The park is steeped in history and now it's part of my history. It's without a doubt my very special place.
So, dear readers, do you have special place?

Fancy 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.

"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. 

What'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)

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!

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!

Will 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!

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.

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🎄