Tag Archives: postaweek 2014

Wondertits!


Hahaa!! I came across this photograph in the archives earlier.

The idea for this shoot came about during a dinner party in which there may or may not have been alcohol involved. I said, excitedly, “Why don’t we do a shoot where you’re dressed like wonder woman and with your boobs firing jets of flame?”

I knew Lashes wouldn’t need any convincing.

” OH YES!! Let’s do it!!”

It took weeks to get the props together. A couple of days to make the bra and test the fireworks we were using for the flames. The last thing we wanted was for the flames to go awol while they were strapped to her chest. That wasn’t part of the plan at all!  It took all day to get the lighting exactly as I wanted it. An hour for make up and costume. Ten minutes practising poses so once the flames were lit she could move quickly from one pose to the next.  Fifty seconds for the actual shoot. Boofuls was stood just outside the frame with a fire extinguisher at the ready.

It was great fun and Lashes did brilliantly. You can’t tell she was almost paralysed with fear, can you? The things she does for my art!! Hahaaa. I think it’s probably time to do another fun shoot. I have a couple of ideas floating about……..

Why don’t we…..? Wait…. you’ll have to watch this space.

Wondertits!
Wondertits!
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What’s in a name


Are  we defined by our given names? Do they affect our personality? What really is in a name?

Well, apparently quite a lot.  When I sat down to do this post I typed into Google ‘what’s in a name’ and came up with The Kabalarian Philosophy website.  You type in your name and it will tell you exactly what’s in your name.

I tried it out on a few family members and it’s amazingly accurate.

Which causes a certain family member a bit of a problem as they now have to change their name.

Dear reader, let me elucidate:

Monday is the day I pick Munki up from school.  She was feeling particularly bellicose this week and as I was struggling to fix her car seat safely into position she was complaining about the reading book she’s just been given. “I’ll read it, Nanny. ” She read me the whole book in about thirty seconds. “It’s a stupid baby book, it’s rubbish!” The shoved it back into her school back in disgust then enquired as to whether we’d be going to the park.

Since it was a nice day and Douggie the doggie was in the back of the car the answer was in the affirmative.

We strolled through the park having a nice chat about our respective dogs. “Teddy chews things all the time”, she said. “Oh really? Douggie doesn’t really do that.”

Quick as a flash came her vehement  ( yes, yes, I did indeed swallow a dictionary this morning) reply: “Yes he DOES! He chewed my favourite teddy, Lavender. Now she doesn’t smell like lavender any more, she smells like dog slobber so I’ll have to change her name to Dogslobber. Stupid Douggie!”

Oh dear. I hope it doesn’t affect her personality. I ran it through the Kabalarian website just to be sure. Funnily enough ‘dogslobber’ didn’t come up as a name, although I was invited to add it to their database.

My Bruvver


What can I tell you about my brother? Listen to the song, it sums him up perfectly as a child – and indeed as an adult.

When my brother phones and says, “You couldn’t do me a massive favour could you?” your heart sinks because you know it’s going to be something totally unreasonable. After a wail of “OH RICK-EEEE, NOOO!” you usually end up doing what he wants, cringing as you go.

His latest idea was a corker. “You couldn’t do me a massive favour could you?  Can you just …..” (Just!?  Fecking JUST!?!)…………his idea was for me to  just find a nice lady dog to mate his twelve year old, half chihuahua, half King Charles spaniel, completely blind, senile, arthritic dog  with. “Well, he won’t last for ever, I’d love a puppy from him.”

“No. It’s not happening,  he’s not exactly a catch is he? I’m not even sure he could manage it, he’s about 65 years old in dog years. Who’s going to want to breed their pedigree dog with him? No, Rick, no.” *puts the phone down really quickly so he can’t talk me round.*

As a child he was a walking accident. His glasses were always fixed with sellotape. His shoes regularly ended up in the canal after he’d kick a ball of a stone or even just set off at a run. Talking of running, he’s the only child I ever saw kick his own backside as he ran.

How? I have no idea. Spindly legs and knock knees, I suppose.

I could list his exploits for many a post and not run out of tales to tell.

After one of his many accidents he used to stand in front of our mum with a look on his face that would translate as ‘please don’t kill me.’ Of course, we were brought up in the days when it was perfectly acceptable, indeed encouraged, to give your children a good walloping and Ricky had his fair share of them. Mum would flail at him with both hands while he just curled his spindly body into a ball, elbows and knees sticking out everywhere. In the end mum would give up as he was hurting herself more than she was hurting him so she’d just shout as she walked away fuming, “Oh, RICKY, You’d make a fecking saint swear. ”

She wasn’t wrong.

As we grew up Ricky became my best friend. We’d go out together at the weekends, get drunk and then go back to my house with our respective partners and friends, listen to Pink Floyd and contemplate the meaning of life. Other times we rocked out to Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow, Deep Purple, ZZ Top or any of the other bands that took us through our teens, twenties and thirties.  We laughed, conversed, played poker and just generally all enjoyed being in each other’s company. Good times.

It was Rick, who when he met Boofuls for the first time, recognised that there was something special going on. I think you’ve met your match there, he said.  A prophesy that was proved to be correct. It was almost exactly  year later when he walked me down the aisle and gave me way at our wedding.

Latterly, Rick has settled into a more sedate lifestyle. Not totally of his own choice. A bad accident a few years ago left him less mobile than previously and years of smoking  took their toll. Really, people with asthma and emphysema shouldn’t be smoking but  suggestions that he stop smoking fell on deaf ears as you’d expect.

Last week, Rick was suffering from a particularly bad chest infection. “Rick, get to the doctor’s, this is ridiculous. ” He must have felt gruesome because he did exactly that.

While he was there he collapsed and suffered heart failure. I suppose if you are going to collapse then the best possible place to do it is in a building full of doctors. He’s always been jammy like that, our Rick.

He was given CPR and then taken to our local hospital critical care unit where he was put onto a ventilator, dialysis and all manner of other things I don’t even have names for. Tubes, drains, sensors, clips, bottles seemed to be coming in and out of him  from every angle.

It turned out that Ricky had developed pneumonia which was just too much for his already overworked organs to deal with. He suffered multiple organ failure and sepsis.

For the last few days  the family and a couple of close friends of his have been with him almost constantly, taking it in turns to sit with him, chat to him, stroke his hair and listen to the constant beep beep beep of his life support machines.

Yesterday morning I  got the call we’d all been dreading. “Get the family together and get up to the hospital as soon as possible.”  At the  hospital we were informed gently and sensitively by the doctors that Ricky wasn’t responding to any treatment, in fact his  condition continued to deteriorate  despite massive medical intervention.

The decision was made to turn off his life support.

We  all said our goodbyes individually and then we surrounded his bed, stroking his head and holding his hands as his life support machines were turned off.

It took him less than five minutes to die. He slipped away listening to his favourite song ever, ‘Never Before’ by Deep Purple.

We don’t know if he was aware of what was happening at all, if he knew he was dying. We don’t know if he heard the nurse telling us how it would happen.  We don’t know if he heard or understood that we were going to turn off his machines and kill him by doing so.

We don’t know if he heard us tell him that we love him.

I do know that when I noticed a tear in the corner of his eye as his life left his body I fell apart.

That tear will haunt me until the day I die.

My funny, clumsy, clever, cheeky, irreverent, unreasonable, amazing brother, it has been an honour to be your sister.

I love you.

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National Extraneous Apostrophe Day


In fact, I think it must be National Extraneous Apostrophe Year as I’ve see so many of them around.

The local sun bed shop has had a new sign made:  ‘SUN BED’S’

The local greasy spoon has a sign up saying the now sell Holland’s pie’s.

So in honour of the occasion I’m going to litter everything I write today with extraneous apostrophe’s.

I may tell you about the dog’s at the dog club last night, all rehearsing a formation dance routine for a demonstration on Sunday. Douggie the doggie and  I had to drop out after Douggie had a fit, a shaky one not a hissy one. That meant at training last night we were put with the beginner’s. Ok, there was only one beginner but  I couldn’t get an apostrophe in. Phew! It’s harder than I thought, this.

Since it’s harder than I thought I’m going to spell potato as potatoe and tomato as tomato.  (Damn, now I have to think of thing’s to say that include the words potato and tomato).  I think I’ll add  extraneous ‘e’s to any words I can get them in as well to make the job easier.

Anyway, you get the idea. Everywhere I go my eyeball’s are assaulted with ridiculous mistakes that even nine year old’s shouldn’t be making.  What  on earth has happened? How did we become a nation of semi literate idiot’s? Rant over.

Except:

Booful’s and I decided to drop into B & Q to pick up a few item’s to beautify the garden for our potential buyer’s, who aren’t exactly battering the door down I might say.  While we were there I had occasion to use their er.. facility’s ( aaaaargh, my eyeball’s!!!). You’d think in a shop stuffed full of bathrooms they’d be able to replace a broken toilet seat in their own loo’s rather than hold it together with tape. Eeeeeeww.

As you may have guessed, the Douggiemobile, aka my CRV is a bit of a tip. It’s ( heh :-D) become a bit of a shrine to Douggie with a back seat guard, a tailgate guard, spare lead’s, poo bag’s, treat’s, towel’s and toy’s.  IT was quite a balmy evening last night so while I was driving north for our HTM lesson last night  I had the window’s open to keep Douggie cool.  I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw what looked like a bat flying around in the boot. OH MY GOD. WHAT’S THAT??  Note to self: It’s not a good idea to stare into the back of the car whilst driving at 70 mph on the M6, or indeed any motorway.

The bat then landed on the tailgate guard. At which point I could see it was in fact a black poo bag which had been caught up in the draught and taken flight.  Oh! Be still my beating heart!

 

 

That was the week that was……..


My birthday! Happy birthday to me!

I’m one of the few people who can truly say is British since my Mum was Welsh, my Dad was a Scot and I was born in England on St Patrick’s day which of course was on Monday of last week.

We do birthday’s in a big way in our family so of course, in true Boofuls Towers stye, the celebrations started early with a party last Staurday for close family and friends. Funnily enough, it’s never crossed my mind to have a St Patrick’s themed party.

Instead we had a pirate themed party to get us in the mood for May’s  pirate festival in Brixham.  Aaaaaaar.  The pirates’ provenance was a bit mixed with sea shanties from Cornwall, (miserable dirges they were, they lasted about two minutes before I put something more cheery on), Caribbean inspired food, cake, costumes and drinks along with a few eye patches, swords and hats and a lot of “Aaaaaarrrrrrr, ye scurvy dog” completed the theme.

One day we might put on a sophisticated soiree and surprise everyone. Nah, only kidding!

Sunday was a recovery day for most of the party goers. Me? I was annoyingly chipper having spent most of the previous evening on soft drinks. Boofuls and I went out to get some new curtains and rugs to give the house a bit of a lift for spring.

Monday. The big day! The day started with Boofuls bringing me a cup of coffee in bed and Douggie the doggie jumping on the bed and giving me a big sloppy kiss.  Two minutes later I was holding his head ( Douggie’s not Boofuls’) over the waste bin to catch his vomit and prevent it going all over my brand new cream coloured bedroom carpet. I don’t think the vomit was anything to do with the big sloppy kiss he gave me. I hope not, anyway.

Next up was lots of pressies and brekkie at at the new eating and drinking emporium in town with my bestie. Full English breakfast? Don’t mind if I do! WE were absolutely gobsmacked to see people drinking actual achohol at 10.00 a.m.  The venue was split into two definite parts. One part being the ladies who meet for coffee and men who meet for beer – and never the twain shall mix. We all stayed at our own end of the pub and looked across disdainfully at the other side.

Monday night, Boofuls went out to his club and I met some clients at work. Oh well, can’t have everything.

On Tuesday I went with Douggie the doggie to a choreography session at our club. We are doing an exhibition for a local-ish charity soon and the club has been asked to do something special, so we’re doing formation dancing for dogs. Cool!

Wednesday. Oh Wednesday.  What a grim start to the day. The light at the end of the tunnel turned out to be the taxman’s torch.  Sigh. A nice tax demand took the edge of my celebrations but not for long.

On Wednesday afternoon I went to see a medium. Whether you believe in it all or not, I do. Fervently. Difficult not to when if you have to put a title onto yourself that title would be ‘spiritualist’.

I’m not going to share anything that was said there – yet. I’m saving it for a big announcement to come soon (ooooooooh, exciting!!). All I will say is: Bloody hell, has she been stalking us and bugging our phones? This woman is gooood.

One of my birthday gifts from Boofuls was tickets to see Vincent Simone and Flavia Cacace in Dance ’till Dawn in Manchester. Funny, entertaining, amazing dancing, obviously. It was fabulous. Go and see it immediately! What? I now you’re at the other side of the world. Don’t make excuses, go and see it. It’s worth it!

Thursday was a recovery day.  

Friday was the day I’ve been waiting for. Lashes and I went to a spa for the day. It was a Christmas pressie from Boofuls and I’ve been saving it.  What a fantastic day. I can cope with massages, facials, long, leisurely lunches and a bass or two of wine. What a fantastic day we had. Made even better by the fact that Boofuls dropped us off and picked us up o there was no driving involved. He and Len picked us up at the appointed time and then they took us to The Clog and Billycock for dinner.

What’s theClog and Billycock?

It’s a  restaurant, not too far away from here that is owned by the well known chef Nigel Haworth. I’ve been wanting to go for some time, so we did.

You must go there, immediately. You can do it when you come to see Dance ’till Dawn. With it’s deceptively simple menu and homely surroundings its a lovely place to spend and evening.  I thought it would be a bit pretentious, I expected to see beluga caviar served on a sturgeon’s fin nestling on a swan’s left ear but it was exactly the opposite. Lovely simple, tasty and wholesome food.  Good grief. I was so full I could hardly move.

You know the food is good when you are stuffed to the gunnels but when they ask if you want a dessert you say yes and eat every last bit of it. Last time I was that full was the ‘nine puddings’ incident in Hong Kong. I’ll tell you about that another day. Here are a couple of photos for you. One of my Lancashire hotpot and one of my dessert, a lovely, light lemon possett.

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They’re alright these birthdays. Weeks like this I can deal with. Happy birthday. It certainly was. Thanks to everyone who made it all happen.  Now then.  Where are my elasticated trousers?