Snow Show

Has anybody actually got any snow out there, or are THEY just threatening it for something to talk about. I'm bored of it (yes Mother 'bored OF it' ha ha haa) already and we haven't had any yet. Apart from that bit that's just suddenly started flittering past the window - DAMN. I'm in a grumpy enough mood simply being cold and surrounded by children who think I'm interested in juggling and dinosuar contortionism.

Explanation of latest grump: cold, can't get on with the things I want to get on with, can't be bothered to get on with the things that I have to get on with, too many things that I want/have to to get on with, no energy, no gumption, no interest.... and another sore lip. To sum up: miserable git.

And I've drunk my coffee which means that I'm supposed to switch off now and go and 'do'.


But I keep getting distracted by hopeful little moppets squeaking about snowflakes.

Eughhh I hate bloody snow.


Then again....if it snowed, then I would have the perfect escape hatch from doing things. We'd be trapped in again and therefore excused from outside life. Not excused from inside life however, but it would still slow down - like driving past a road accident - to look through the windows alot and tut.

But...... we're out of biscuits. And proper coffee. So all in all it had better not bloody snow. Plus I am waiting for an appointment for some consultant type to peer up my lady bits. Probably best to get that out the way sooner rather than... But if it snowed I wouldn't be able to go. And I don't want to go. Not that they've made the appointment yet. Somebody rang me to ask if I could do Monday. Too much to reorganise so I asked what about Tuesday. 'I'm just booking Monday now' 'And you can't move on to Tuesday until you've filled up Monday?' 'Yes' ............. I'm assuming she never did fill every slot on Monday as I haven't heard back. Suppose I'll have to wait until Monday actually passes by and wait for the next appointment I can't meet to be offered. Don't you just adore medical administration? Even more useless than educational administration. Third in line are shoe shops who can't order in a non-shopsoiled pair of something until they've sold the unsaleable ones 'cos Head Office says so. Are office workers marked at birth? Worker ant, soldier ant, worker ant, soldier ant, unimaginative blinkered box-ticker with no communication skills? Yes, administration for you. Next! Taking that further..... what the bloody 'ell did I look like as a baby? Life of unachievement and chaos for this one. Hmmmnnnn - art college. That should bugger it up for the rest of its life. Aspiration with no talent - perfect. Next!

Maybe up in Cloudland the Snow Monkeys are waiting for all the forms to be completed and triple checked by Head Office before they're authorised to drop a flake. They're probably waiting for my appointment to be set. So I don't reckon it's ever going to snow.

For now, I've drunk my coffee (instant but I can't really tell the difference) so I'd better go and DO something. I can hardly contain my enthusiasm. Next job, the bogey hankie mountain.

.....Trudging through a Winter Wonderland.......

SOMEBODY tell me!

Just forgive me everyone for being so totally crap at catching up on my essential blog reading.

When I finally catch up on my non-essential advent fairy bullshit, and my totally non-interesting Xmas 'net shopping, I may attempt to get back to normal. Who am I kidding? I may attempt to get back to the familiar abnormal. But when my bloody children, (for whom I am surely making myself sick and anxious and angry and blog-starved), FINALLY learn how to GO TO BLOODY BED and BLOODY S T A Y T H E R E, I might just calm down. I might.

I now have just over a week to sew on stupid letters and stupid buttons and stupid bells and stupid tassels to my stupid bunting and I haven't even made all the stupid tassels yet, or threaded half the stupid buttons on to stupid wire to make stupid buttony beads to punctuate the stupid bunting flags with the stupid tassels on. All this to day-by-day slide onto the stupid cord which I still haven't even measured and checked if I have enough, which I will tie onto the stupid hooks which I still haven't checked if I have any, to the stupid oak beams which will probably be impossible to penetrate with the stupid hooks anyway.

And what did I do tonight whilst still waiting for damned children to go to bloody sleep?

Scribbled out next year's stupid bloody ideas for stupid bloody advent.

There really is something wrong with me.

But I adamantly refuse to fix it.

There must be a cure.

Drugs.

Tranquilizers for the kids. Tramlines of coke for me?

This is all a pathetic reaction against the fact that I cannot cook or keep the house clean or know what an iron looks like. I could just buy Spongebob chocolate calendars but no. I have to prove myself to be some sort of Mother Supreme by doing insane little secret makey special stupid bloody advent surprises every stupid bloody year and spend the last couple of months leading up to stupid bloody Xmas with an average of 2 hours of sleep per night. Then, of course I am such a delight to live with that my children will always cherish those warm Xmas memories for the rest of their disturbed blighted lives.

'Tis the season to be sectioned.


Damn - you know what - I could have just done at least 20 bloody button loops instead of spewing my guts all over the keyboard.

Forgive me everyone ........... but I'm gonna hit publish and get me tassels out.

Who Knows Where the Time Goes........

Across the purple skies.......

Bless you Sandy you knew wot wos wot.

I can't put my perpetual startled expression and whiney 'That CAN'T be the time!' so poetically. Suffice to say - I don't seem to have time to scratch my arse at the moment. Told you I wasn't so poetic.

Too many things in my head - well passing thro' the space between my ears anyway. My Dad used to say if a thought found its way into my head it would soon get lonely and leave. I may have said this before. Not only do stray thoughts pass through like misty trains (is that more poetic?), my memory for them, or what I have/haven't said already, what I have/haven't done is completely lost in that mist.

All I do know is that I'm not keeping up with myself. And I'm a bit tired. And a bit ponder-y. And it's that time of year again - I bring it on myself I know. But those Advent Fairies of mine have got less than 2 weeks to produce 96 delightful little secrets every morning. But it's also that time of the year that I get tireder. I don't like the short days - the early darkness seems to make me think that 'productive time' is over - and I get all slumpy and cardigany and just want chocolate on a permanent drip. I think I am a permanent drip.

But now it's bedtime for annoyingly bouncy boys. Time for more Gary Larson cartoons (Little Rock Godling's favourite). The Far Side indeed. Been there. Never quite made it back. But snakes in pinnies and poodle-head hunters are a blessed relief from bloody children's books. Obviously apart from the one I am writing (when do you do that then Mrs? Oh ... when I'm asleep). Off I go. Wish me luck. I'll be back downstairs in about 2 hours with Ken Dodd hair and pins and needles having fallen asleep halfway thro' a sentence with 2 monkeys draped across my head.

Up the wooden hills to Bedfordshire...... down Sheet Lane to unremitting insanity.

Night night my lovelies......


I must find the time to bloody blog again. Orrr.... Did I do that already?

Bewitched, Buggered and Bewildered

We had fun!

We had fun in The hated Village of Hairshirt Hypocrisy I think I've mentioned before.

We made cakes. It's what nice people do.

Not overly certain if nice people also bundle straight into the hostess's kitchen demanding teaspoons to finish decorating their offering but I think we got away with it. Fairy cakes of varying sizes (due to scavenging cake cases of varying sizes from the bottom of the rusting tin whilst swearing and blaming the government), gratuitously smothered in orange and green goo with a liberal and democratic smattering of Skittles. They looked just darling nestling in amongst the pumpkin soup and carob brownies. I thought so. Didn't look so good smeared on the cream cushions I'll admit but the horrified faces were just SO right for Halloween. Just the right spirit.

We did that demanding stuff for no good reason thing too. What's that phrase? Something By Menaces. That's what someone cleverer than me said anyway. We had quite a gang of kidlets all looking dead spooky-cool banging on doors like Special Branch. And Thuglet - slightly grumpy face squidged into a fluffy dinosaur 'bonnet' thing and a tail. Boldly accessorizing a nice cardigan. Very funny indeed. And being The Village....... one of the delightful little spooklets politely asked of the proffered cake 'Is it vegan?' Not 'Cake - yay!' or even 'Where's the proper sweets?' like any other kid. Strange how noone but me thought this was hilarious. Quickly converted my gutter-emptying guffaw into a stage cough.

Back at the party, all my boys were a huge hit on the dancefloor. All those Michael Jackson moves impressed the locals. Money bloody well spent those classes. Damn fine show. Damn fine party to be sure. Little Rock Pumpkin won Musical Statues and Musical Cushions. Probably due to something by menaces too...... Those Skittles are really kicking in now. I think I'm getting signals that it's time to go home.....

Slipping into the car a little while later, it all kicked off. Of course. 'You stole my lolly!' 'No I saw your lolly fall out your bag into a puddle. A really muddy one!' 'Haven't you got enough bloody lollies in that freaky ghost head already?' 'That was my FAVOURITE lolly!' 'I'm NOT having this all the way home!' Devil Mother turns up the stereo and knocks her horns awry. Now looks even more demonic. 'Give - me - MY - L O L L Y !!!!!' 'AAaaarrrrggghhhhh!!!!!' ....variations on a theme carried us all the way home. I always notice that the more fun my Monster-Brats have, the more bastard-like they are afterwards. Every time. The Hammer Car of Horror.

By the time I'm slunking into my own settee like an empty treat bag, back in my own familiar smells and sticky patches, I felt the urgent need for cucumber and carrots. We'd consumed so much carb, sugar, E numbers, MSG etc over the weekend I had to balance the books somehow. One carrot stick did the trick tho'. Back to business...... Chocolate eyeball anyone?



It's almost as exhausting as bloody Xmas.


But without the new slippers.