Pink fog?


I’ve just sat down to write a post and glanced out of the window. The sky has gone pink but it’s foggy.  What’s that all about?

The light is amazing. Now I can’t stop gawping out of the front and back windows. My poor head is twisting from left to right like I’m at a tennis match.  I’ll be getting a crick in my neck at this rate.

Back in a mo….I’m going for another gawp.

Yup, still pink. Ain’t nature wonderful?

Eggy Mc Nasty


Eggy Mcnasty? I remember him – and he made me chuckle. I hope he made you chuckle too.

Originally posted on Tripping Over Pebbles No More:

Hey!! The sun’s shining and it’s hot, hot, hot so I thought I’d celebrate with a new and summery look for the blog. Fab, innit?

Not so keen on the font though so I’ll have to work our how to change it.

So. Back to our jolly hols:

Having got on the ship, found our cupboar…I mean cabin and did the emergency drill.

Ha. Emergency drill. It always amazes me how people just don’t listen. While they were being told and shown what to do in the case of an emergency loads of people fiddled with or put on their life jackets, despite being told not to, or chatted amongst themselves, gazed around the room and generally ignored what was going on.  The there was the other side of that coin – those who stared intently at the crew, hanging on to every word and paying very close attention as…

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Wot? No marmite?

And they call themselves a civilised country?

What on earth am I wittering on about I can hear you thinking.

Marmite. That’s what.

Hands up if you like Marmite.

Hands up if you hate Marmite.

Fairly even split there, I think.

It have a definite love or hate polarising effect. I’ve never heard anyone say they’re ambivalent towards it, mostly because people who eat Marmite don’t use words like ambivalent.

Hands up if you’ve never heard of it.

Personally, I love Marmite. Marmite on toast, in beans, as a hot drink, on soldiers…

Whoa! Hold on a minute.

Marmite on soldiers?  * Mmmmmmm…..*takes on dreamy expression*

THAT was a mental picture I was enjoying until I was jolted back to reality by mentally hearing Boofuls shout OI!

Let me clarify, dear reader. I meant Marmite on bread soldiers to dip into my boiled eggs. That doesn’t mean I’m necessarily saying that you can’t put Marmite on real soldiers, preferably a royal marine,   and lick it off but I can’t as Boofuls won’t be terribly happy about it.

For those of you readers who have never heard of it I can tell you it’s a yeast extract, the same as Vegemite. Absolutely, delicious, nutritious and very good for you.

So imagine my surprise when I discovered that it’s banned  in Canada! Apparently it’s a bit too good for you. The fact that it has been enriched with vitamins has got it placed on the black list, which is ironic because it is black.

I thought Canada was a civilised country.  So civilised that we were on the verge of emigrating there a few years ago. Well. I couldn’t possibly emigrate to a place that doesn’t have Marmite!

Canada, you are officially off my christmas card list.

Here’s the full story: Canada orders Briton to stop selling Marmite and Irn Bru

What’s Irn Bru? It’s made from girders and Scots people drink it with vodka.  It’s vile.


Huzzah – I think

What I never realised about anyone with a broken leg is how severely it restricts their wardrobe choices.

Poor old Boofuls couldn’t get his lovely jeans over his stonking great white cast or even over his much lighter and smaller frog green one.  After seeing him in pyjamas for four days in hospital and then in a borrowed pair of The Rev’s zip up tracksuit bottoms  for another few days I decided it was time to go shopping. I mean, you can only wear the same pair of trousers for so long before they start to become, er, fragrant.

Not only that, and you  probably already realised, but I didn’t, that a person with restricted movement get terribly cold.  We had ‘thermostat wars’. Every time Boofuls went past it in his wheelchair he turned it up and every time I went past it I turned it down.  Words were exchanged on several occasions as I’d stand there red faced and with with beads of sweat on my forehead, itching with the heat while Boofuls lay on the settee covered with  blanket and complained of being freezing.

Armed with all the relevant information I hit the aisles of Matalan. Theses keks need to have an elasticated waist, be roomy in the leg and also nice and warm. I headed straight for the ‘ soon to be starring on the Jeremy Kyle show’ section.

Here we go! Nice big, elasticated waist, fleecy, saggy arsed tracksuit bottoms in shades of black or grey. Since Boofuls’ nice shirts and jumpers wouldn’t look at all right with these I also invested in a couple of long sleeved tops and a tracksuit top in a nice chav grey.  The perfect dole dosser ensemble.

It’s fair to say we’ve had our money’s worth out of them and they did the job beautifully but a picture of sartorial elegance he was not. His one fluffy sock to cover his poor cold tootsies and one slippered foot, tee shirts and saggy bottomed trackies with the amazing ability to pick up every hair dropped air from Douggie the doggie, and that’s a lot of hair, is a very difficult look to do well. I think it was probably all the static electricity from the man made fibres that attracted all the hair.

You’ll be glad to know that now his cast is off he’s able to put on his sexy, bum hugging jeans again and is looking much more like the man I married, albeit quite a bit more rolling in the gait. I’m sure another few weeks will sort that out though.

So, here we are at another Valentine’s Day. The postman struggled down the path with a giant sack of cards to push through the letterbox – just not my letterbox. Sigh. I seem to have lost my allure.

It’s been many a year since a Valentine’s Card came my way much less a giant bunch of red roses.  Mind you, thirty years of marriage says,’ I love you’ better than a bunch of overpriced flowers ever could.

I was in Lidl yesterday and the number of embarrassed looking men who walked out clutching bouquets of red roses, holding them as if they were trying to pretend they weren’t there, was really touching and funny at the same time.

There’ll be some happy women around Littletown today.

Romance isn’t dead after all. Aaaaaw.

I need a longer rope

Y’see, I’m right at the end of mine so I need a longer one.

Boofuls and I must have royally pissed off the Gods at some point in a previous life and we aren’t half paying for it now. Im generally quite a sunny natured and positive person. People comment about how I’m always smiling and how my positive attitude is a breath of fresh air. Well. They used to.

Now as soon as I pick myself up and dust myself off from another traumatic event and think ‘Well, life’s not that bad. We’ve got such a lot to be grateful for’,  the universe thinks, hang on a minute, we can’t be having that and dumps another load of celestial shit on our shoulders.

These days I seem to be walking round with a permanent black cloud over my head. They tell me that adversity is character building. Yes, well, I have enough character now, thank you.

So what are this weeks offerings?

Well, I can’t share that with you. All I can do is rant a bit so here goes:

Well first the effing ^%d*ka)K* &^*hjGHJJJJJskgjsegfv  goes and 1jdddf%4 and then @lo%^l*aja(TT and to cap it all the bloody effing£G^hha7&*  only goes and *TH&%Dcdjf%$ can you effing believe it?!  and don’t even get me started on effing @f!fstaa%)^&%CB*! You couldn’t make this stuff up!

Not that our nerves are frayed or anything at the moment but we ended up arguing earlier about the sat nav giving the wrong directions. Ha! I accidentally typed ‘sat nag’ then. That’s more like it.  For someone who’s meant to be good at directing people from A to B she’s rubbish. Doesn’t even know her left from her right. I bet she’s blonde. I can say that because I’m a natural blonde so that negates any perceived ‘blondism’. There we were in the car listening to her saying “Your destination will be on your left.”  when I’m looking at it on my bloody right! For Gawd’s sake!

Anyway. I bet you’re wondering why I’m up at four in the morning. No?

Well I’m going to tell you anyway.

I was cold. We went to bed. Well. I went to bed, Boofuls hobbled to bed with his nice new frog green cast on his leg. We settled down to sleep and I thought, I’m cold. I shouldn’t have been cold as we have the lovely, thick winter weight duvet on. I put on my warm nightie. I’m still cold. I lay there shivering, teeth chattering while Boofuls gently snored and twitched. Eventually I got up and put on my warm woolly socks and fleecy dressing gown. Still I lay there with my teeth literally chattering. I rolled myself up in the duvet like a sausage roll and willed myself to get warm. Then I noticed that Boofuls was fast asleep half uncovered, obviously not cold and perfectly comfortable. I don’t think I’m well. I’ve spent the last two days sniffling, sneezing and coughing. Good grief! I don’t have time to be ill! Don’t you know how busy I am? I’ve got absolutely everything to do while Boofuls is laid up with his broken leg.

So, there I lay in my sausage roll, listening to Boofuls snore while I counted sheep, visualised all sorts of stuff and tried every other trick I could think of to get to sleep. The trouble was that I couldn’t slow my thoughts down enough  to actually catch one and think it before it whizzed away on that merry go round in my head. Fairly soon I realised that my teeth had stopped chattering and the goosebumps had subsided. I’d warmed up. Yay!

Still sleep eluded me. I’m hungry. I’m really hungry. No I’m not. Go to sleep. Who gets hungry at this time for God’s sake? I’m really hungry. Sigh. Just bloody get up and have a snack. Some warm milk and a banana ( and a waffle ) should do the trick and lull me to sleep. An hour later, I’m still here. Exhausted. Thoughts whizzing, heart racing, shivering, sweating and generally feeling like crap. But on the positive side at least I’m not hungry! *Ducks to avoid celestial shit.*

A nice day out at the Crem

I can’t remember if I’ve posted about this previously but if I have then just ignore me and put it down to senility and tiredness. I’ve been up half the night with Douggie the doggie and I’m so tired I’m feeling  rather spaced out. People pay good money for this feeling and I’ve got it for free courtesy of the dog. I could put all the drug dealers in town out of business by just hiring my dog out to drug users on a night when he’s having one of his ‘episodes’. Three hours of nocturnal running up and down after an epileptic dog in the early hours and trying to work out what to do for the best should do the trick.

So now, while I’m at the start of a busy day and can’t really go back to bed, Douggie is flat out on the floor catching up on his lost zzzzzzz’s. Lucky bugger, I wish I could do the same. I wouldn’t even mind if it was on the floor, anywhere would do.

Anyway,  Back to the title. What’s all this about the crem?

Well. Boofuls and I have a very good friend who just happens to be a funeral director. Funny chap, he has the kind of black humour you’d expect from a man with his job. I took some photos of  some coffins for him a while back and we spent the whole time laughing our socks off. I’ll call him Hugh because that’s his name.

Hugh told us that there was going to be an open day at our local crematorium. There would be a few stands from which various funeral directors would be displaying their wares and you could also have a tour of the facility. Boofuls of course with his love of cemeteries, which I’ve told you about before, thought this would be a bloody marvellous day out.

Bear in mind that this was about three weeks after my brother had been taken to that very crematorium and you’ll understand why I was rather less inclined to see the fun in a backstage tour of the local crem.

The day arrived. “Are we going then?”  Boofuls asked me. “If you like.”  I mean, how bad could it be, it’s not like my brother was still in there, was it?  I have to admit that a little part of me was quite interested. It’s the photographer in me, you see. It makes me very nosy and I just love being allowed to go into places that no one else can. Not really the case with this as the very name ‘Open Day’ kind of implies that it’s not private but hey ho, you get the idea.

Just as we were about to set off Boofuls looked at me like he’d just had a really good idea. “Do you think the girls would like to go?” by ‘girls’ he meant of course our grandchildren aged eleven and fifteen.

I stood and looked at him in amazement. “No love. I don’t think they’d like to go. I can’t imagine anything they’d less like to do and that includes putting pins in their eyes. It’d give them nightmares for the rest of their lives.” I think I should have a chat to Boofuls about what teenage girls consider to be entertainment and what they don’t. maybe I could do it as a flow chart with ‘Is this entertainment?’ at the top.

He looked at me a bit crestfallen but he soon recovered. As the crematorium is just outside one of our nicest parks we thought we’d take Douggie the doggie along for a walk after the tour.

To be fair, it was very interesting. I’m not sure what the chap who worked there was about to say at one point but our friend Hugh jumped in very quickly and cut him off before he said it by stating that my brother had recently been through the process. At this point the chap coughed and changed the subject quickly. I’m curious.

Anyway, moving on. I saw the very burner they put my brother in and also the grinder they put his bones in. See. I didn’t know they did that. I’d always thought that you just ended up as a big pile of ash.

After the tour we stood round chatting for a while with Hugh and his staff as well as a couple of the other funeral directors.Yes, it was THAT busy. I collected Douggie from the car and of course he immediately became the centre of attention. “Make him dance” says Hugh. “Is that appropriate in this environment?” I enquired. “Yeah, make him dance, it’ll cheer us right up.”

So make him dance I did. Before I knew it a small crowd had gathered. It was the busiest it had been all day up there and Hugh took advantage of the extra people by ushering them in to receive his finest sales patter. That man is multi talented.

We went off for our walk and a bacon butty in the park cafe and Hugh managed to do a roaring trade in advance bookings.

So that was it. A day out at the crem. What’s your most unusual day out?

Sunday Morning

Happy Sunday to you people of Blogdom. I hope that whatever you’re doing today you have a great day.

My day has consisted so far of screaming at Boofuls to shuddup snoring and swearing at the dog for bouncing round like an idiot at 7.00 a.m. telling me to get up. Boofuls, in an attempt to make amends for keeping me awake half the night with his appalling racket offered to get up and let me have a lie in. A red letter day indeed. That doesn’t happen very often!

So lie in I did. Not waking up till 9.30.  Lazy mare!

Normally I could have booted Boofuls out to go and sleep in the spare room but I stripped the bed completely yesterday and since he hasn’t snored for weeks I didn’t re make it. Bad timing, Boofuls, bad timing.

Now I am finally out of my bed, Douggie the doggie is looking at me sideways wondering if he dares suggest we go for a walk. Not yet, Douggie, Im busy blogging and drinking my concoction of hot water, cinnamon, lemon and honey. A much more pleasant way to start the day than claggy coffee.

It snowed yesterday. Not your lovely big, fluffy, happy snowflakes. Oh no, yesterday’s snow fell from an angry and brooding sky which snowed bitter and mean, sharp, stinging snow mixed with hailstones that made you pull your hood up, get your head down and get home as soon as possible. It looks nice though. I took a few photographs on my phone while I was out even though the wind sent the hailstones straight into my face. I sure do suffer for my art! Maybe I should have waited till today as a lot more snow fell during the night and it really does look nice  offset by a bright blue sky.

Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright


My new iphone has had a nervous breakdown.

The touch screen won’t work, the screen has gone most peculiar and it thinks it hasn’t got a sim card.

It appears to be water damaged. Ok. It got a few raindrops on it on Friday but it has a screen protector and a cover and it really was only a few raindrops. Dang. This is one sensitive phone. It’s not like I dropped it down the loo or dunked it in a pint of beer during a hissy fit or anything.

It really is most inconvenient not having a phone. Especially since it’s my camera of choice, my music, my photo album, road map and all the other things I use it for on a daily basis, which of course means multiple Facebook visits and checking of the weather between Lancashire and Devon.

My most popular game at the moment is to look at the weather in our location and say ‘Guess what temperature it is here.” Then I flick over to the weather in Devon and say “Guess what temperature it is there” About five nanoseconds after the guessee tells me their answer I squeal  with delight and tell them the difference in degrees. “Ten! It’s ten degrees warmer down there. That’s a lot of degrees. And it’s sunny. It’s not flipping’ sunny here, is it? Do you know what it’s going to be all week? Sunny. Do you know what it’s going to be like here? Shite.”

It’s probably time we had a trip down to Devon to make sure it’s managing without us. I’m obviously having withdrawal symptoms. Mind you, with Boofuls toe to knee in plaster and hobbling round on his crutches it might be tricky. Bezzie’s husband lent Boofuls his wheelchair – he only needs it occasionally. Let’s hope he doesn’t need it while Boofuls has got it as he might struggle to get it back.  He’s been like a kid with a new toy, whizzing round the house in it like Speedy Gonzales. I’m not sure that carrying scalding hot cups of tea between his legs is a good idea though.

So. How’s your weekend been? Exciting? Boring?

Ours has been lovely. We’ve been having a sort out and found all of our old video tapes. We borrowed a video player from a friend and have spent most of the weekend with Lashes and Len watching our old family videos.

Len and Lashes stayed over last night and we spent all of yesterday evening and most of today watching them. You have to love a bit of nostalgia.

Snippets from our am dram days and shows we’d forgotten we’d performed in. Family Christmas’s. Holidays. Parties galore. The kids growing up, we had some cute kids! Watching their antics had us laughing out loud. Friends and family now long gone and not so long gone have brought back lots of memories, a ton of laughs and just a few tears. It made me realise that yes, we have struggled over the years but on the whole we have had a brilliant life and shared it with some brilliant people.

Boofuls and his friend used to have a comedy double act. We watched some of their shows as well last night and they are just as funny now as they were then.

Mind you, I was amazed at how much of it I had totally forgotten. Even while I sat watching it there were events that I had absolutely no recollection of. Had I not seen myself in the footage I’d have thought I wasn’t there. That surprised me, I thought I had quite a good memory. Obviously not.

When Lashes was little she used to love watching videos of herself. Nothing has changed in that department. She still loves to watch herself. As for Boofuls and me, I can’t believe how young we looked.

Funny how when the children grow up the camera goes in the cupboard. It’s inspired me to get the camera out and to film much more so we can preserve those precious memories for the future. Hopefully our children and grandchildren will spent a lovely few hours enjoying watching it all back, just like we’ve done this weekend.

Rants, raves and ramblings about whatever takes my fancy


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