Tag Archives: postweek2014

Gainfully employed

It’s amazing how fast the novelty wears off, isn’t it?

Just a few short months after finishing work there I was tearing my hair out and getting grumpier and more bored by the day.  The I was thrown a lifeline.

My florist friend sent me a message asking me if I’d like a part time job with her until we move house. OH YES YES! YES! YES PLEASE!

I popped over to see her last week and she told me she wants me to be an extension of herself but more organised. Could i keep her diary, website and Facebook presence more up to date and also to help with day to day jobs.

First task. Make some Christmas trees. That involved going into the garden to cut twigs of various colours and then cutting them to size and wiring them into the shape of a Christmas tree and then decorating them. Beautiful, rustic, absolutely up my street. I felt like I should have been paying her. Who knew that floristry involves so much cement?

Second task. Make three Christmas garlands. Again using natural materials, I was in my element. I think I’m going to enjoy this little jobette until we move.

Talking of moving. We have actually got someone to come and view the house next week. Keep your fingers, toes and anything else you have crossed and send us your vibes. It’s well past time we were living in Devon.

This morning I was going to do a round up of all the week’s news but to be honest I’m exhausted. We had a little dinner party last night and invited people who hadn’t met before as I knew they’d hit it off. Good grief. They hit it off alright, they were still here at 1.00a.m. Boofuls and I were almost asleep at the table. I’m normally in bed by eleven at the latest. You might have to wait till tomorrow for the week’s round up. I’m going for a little snooze now. G’night.

Do you believe in fairies?

Do you believe in fairies? I do.

I had a conversation about fairies recently with Annabelle of Annabelle Franklin: Author.  Go and take a look at her blog, she tells some charming tales about her little rescue dog, Millie.  I told her I’d seen a fairy while I was out walking Douggie the doggie in the woods. I’m not sure she believed me so I told her I’d provide photographic evidence.

Here it is. is this not just the most beautiful fairy you have ever seen?


A few photos of Douggie

The sun has most certainly got his hat on this week. We’ve been basking in the sun now for ages and it’s getting hotter and hotter. Now when I say we’ve been basking I mean other people have been basking. Isn’t it funny how when you use a word a lot it starts to sound funny. I think I shall juts keep inserting the word ‘basking’ wherever I can in this post purely for my own amusement.

I haven’t been basking. I’ve been hiding in the shade quietly dissolving. It is without any fear of contradiction from women of a certain age such as myself that the combination of hot weather and hot flushes in in no way pleasant and definitely makes basking, unless it’s in a pool, a ‘not going to happen’ event.

Anyway, now we’ve resolved the basking issue. Let’s talk about Douggie.

His model good looks and a beautiful sunset the other night triggered my photographer reflex and I grabbed a camera to get a few shots.

There is no doubt about it, the boy’s a looker. Good looks and brains – he’s got the lot!

Talking of brains – and in Douggie’s case occasionally misfiring brains, Boofuls spotted the onset of a seizure the other day. Without hesitating, which is a good job or it would have been too late, he gave Douggie a dose of belladonna and stopped the seizure in it’s tracks. WELL DONE BOOFULS!!! He’s broken the two week seizure cycle! For the first time in three months Doggie has been seizure free for over two weeks. YAY!

(Grammar rule about to be broken alert!!)

Because Douggie has been having so many seizures it was with a heavy heart that we made the decision to try him on conventional medicine. We took him yesterday to pick up a new but less dangerous epilepsy drug called Pexion. I haven’t given it to him yet. I can’t quite bring myself to do it, especially after the brilliant result with the homeopathic remedy the other day. The trick is catching it. If we can see it coming we can stop it. The jury is still out on whether I administer it or not. It seems like a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

Moving on: Here are the photographs I know you’ve been dying to see: Douggie in al his glory.Copyright






It’s 3a.m. In the big brother house

This post actually started on Wednesday night and has been done in disjointed sections. It’s a bit like my brain at the mo – disjointed sections.

Part one.

It’s ok. It’s not the big brother house but it is 3 a.m. So.

Where am I at such an ungodly hour? Answers on a postcard please. The best answer will win a snort of approval from me.

Where am I really?

I’m at the emergency vets with Douggie the doggie. Here he is drugged and dripped.


It’s been a funny, and by funny I mean strange, week. After all these weeks we have a viewer for our house … What? Tell you about Douggie? I will. All in good time, dear reader.

Obviously this viewer could only come in the most inconvenient time possible. Friday. Exactly when I am cooking for 50 people who are turning up from all corners if the British Isles to help us celebrate Boofuls’ 60th birthday. It’s a good job dawn cracks about 3.30 at this time year because that’s when I’ll need to get up to get everything done.

Just to throw a couple more spanners in the works. The tiler didn’t turn up till today and only did half the job and the builder didn’t show up at all. Git.

The outside privy isn’t working and we have one loo to service 50 people. No pressure. I fuckin’ love life.

Back to Douggie:

First thing this morning Douggie threw up. In an attempt to stop the vom hitting the carpet I caught it in my nightie. Ew. Douggie continued to throw up all day becoming worse as the day wore on.

We took him to the vet who drugged him with some hefty drugs, to no avail. He continued to deteriorate.

At the point when he couldn’t lie down because of the pain and he was becoming confused due to dehydration I decided at 1a.m. to phone the emergency vets – and here I am. This is one poorly doggie.

Part two:

Fast forward to today.

Douggie is almost back to normal after being on a drip for two days and having massive  amounts of drugs. The exact cause of his illness wasn’t established despite many blood tests and x rays and £1000+.

Best guesses are pancreatitis, gastroenteritis and poisoning.

We picked him up from the vet’s on Friday.

Remember I mentioned Friday?

Ah yes, Friday.

The day of Boofuls’ birthday. The day of Boofuls’ party. The day we had viewers for the house and the day I had to cater for many people and prepare for a massive party. The day that some of the guests turned up mighty early.  The day my brother decided to drop by.The day the weather that had been glorious for weeks decide to change and deliver  many weeks worth of howling wind and rain all at once.

The day I was tearing my hair out.

The only possible course of action was to get my head down and keep paddling.

The poor dog could really have down without a massive party, I’m sure his attitude to it was the same as mine, that he really wished it wasn’t happening – but it was, so get on with it.

You know what?

It was alright.

It was better than alright, it was brilliant. Guests were told not to feed the dog. We had decorated the barn with fairy lights and chinese lanterns and it looked lovely. The plus side of that was that the house was kept relatively quite. We put up a canopy outside so there was shelter for the smokers and it was all really nice.

I’d very cleverly prepared food that didn’t require too much attention. Two potato  and meat pies, one butter pie, a chilli, a chicken curry, a cheese platter, a large joint of beef cooked beautifully rare and some other bits and pieces.  Lashes, Gembolina, Len’s mum and Big Marge all brought stuff as well and The Rev made a fantastic birthday cake. Winklepop made a point of looking after Douggie for me.

All in all it was a successful night and we didn’t get to bed till 3.00a.m. Just before we set off to bed Boofuls decided to have his final fag. Now stop it you Americans!! Fag means cigarette in Blighty.

I was tidying the kitchen when suddenly I heard a howl from outside. “Oh no!!!” The canopy had finally given up the ghost and collapsed, depositing all the rain collected on top of it – straight onto Boofuls.  Oh! How I laughed. Especially since I’d had my own soaking earlier in the evening.

Why did I get a soaking?

Well, dear reader, let me tell you.

About a week ago one of my friends was nominated for ‘the water challenge’. It’s just a bit of summer silliness and it just means that you allow yourself to get a soaking and post a video of it on Facebook. She in turn nominated me.

Just about exactly at that rime I got an email from Cancer Research suggesting that we hold a BBQ in aid of their ‘Burger off Cancer’ campaign. Hhhmmm, I could probably incorporate this into the party and do a bit of fund-raising at the same time, I thought.

Lashes had the brilliant idea of auctioning of jugs of water to the guests so they could throw it over me. I was gutted how many people were willing to pay money to throw water over me.



It’s startling!

I came across this earlier and immediately thought of my Far Fetched Friend who likes a word game. So. Vanessa, this is just for you.

The word ‘STARTLING’ is one of the only words in the English language where removing one letter at a time yields a new word:


Start  ing

Star  ing

St  r  ing

S t    ing

S       ing

S       in



Heh. Happy Sunday!



You are what you eat, or breathe

Ok, I’m not going to claim that my body is a temple, more of a kebab house really but I have always tried to be careful about what I eat as I do believe passionately that you are you eat. In the days when I had the luxury of doing such things I would always shop organically, my children were all brought up an a good organic, relatively non processed diet with the occasional sin thrown in to keep things exciting. I mean, who doesn’t love the occasional Maccie D?

As a parent I fretted over the state of the environment, what my kids were breathing in and what kind of a world they and their children would inherit. When a motorway was built right next to the boys’ school I was horrified. Have the Government no idea what damage heavy metal ( lead, not music. I’ve no issue with heavy metal music) emissions cause to young people? Particularly with Lashes, as her perfect state of health can be balanced on the thinnest, sharpest knife-edge.

For years I fretted about it all, while researching ways to keep my family safe from such things.  One day I may tell you about my long running battle with the hospital doctors who wanted to treat Lashes with treatments that would eventually cause her more harm than  do her good.  One of my finest hours, I’m proud of that.

Of course in the 80’s this kind of talk was dismissed as hippy nonsense. In a supermarket I once asked there they kept the couscous only to find myself directed to “the crank section”. Charming.

Now it would appear that all my pseudo hippy ramblings and reading have been vindicated. I came across this article on the BBC News website this morning. I’m trying really hard not to thumb my nose at all the nay sayers and say “I BlOODY TOLD YOU!” Y’see, I was just way ahead of my time.

Read and inwardly digest.

Did removing lead from petrol spark a decline in crime?

On a scale of one to ten

I used to be such a little bundle of joy. What happened?

Oh yeah. Life.

I’ve had a few days to calm down now – and it’s just as well because if I’d sat down to write this last week when there was still steam coming from my eyes your poor eyeballs would have been seared with the strength of my profanity.

On the scale of 1 – 10 of pissed offness with 1 being slightly irritated and 10 being totally pissed off I was boiling somewhere around a 15.

What was the cause of my mood? Well, dear reader, I’l tell you.

Death number five in this year of loss occurred a week or so ago. A nice old chap Boofuls and I have known for some years. Not unexpected but still very sad. His funeral was booked for Thursday. Obviously, as near professional funeral goers this year, Boofuls and I planned to go.

Then I realised that I had a client booked in. The same one who’s appointment I’d changed in order to attend my cousin’s funeral. So reluctantly I said to Boofuls, “I can’t change it again, she’ll never believe it’s another funeral and I can’t keep messing  her about. You go, I’ll see the client.”

And so it came to pass that I sat twiddling my thumbs waiting for a client who didn’t turn up while I didn’t pay my last respects to a  lovely old chap. My normal professional veneer may have cracked a little when I phoned my client to enquire as to her whereabouts only to have her tell me she’d forgotten her appointment.  I don’t think she was in any doubt as to how happy I was about it.

Moving on…..  Here’s a round up of the week’s news.

While we were in Torquay last week Douggie the doggie, Boofuls and I were play fighting on the bed  in the hotel. Douggie twisted round and accidentally scratched my face, leaving me with two livid red marks right down my face. My, that hurt!

When we got back home Gembolina asked me if the red marks were because I’d been wind whipped by the massive storms that happened while we were there. “Wind whipped? No. I was dog walloped.”

Despite all our best efforts with a DAP spray, DAP diffuser, rescue remedy and valerian tablets, Douggie had yet another fit a few days after we got home. The one was the worst yet in as much as it occurred outside. FOOOKKKK!!!!!!!

Since we live on a farm and the nearest road is quarter of a mile away I opened the front door while I put my walking boots on so Douggie could gambol around on the path while he waited for me.  he shot out of the door like his backside was on fire and then collapsed behind my car.

It was terrifying. More so because when he comes round from a fit he has no idea who I am, where he is and is uncharacteristically aggressive. Once he managed to stagger to his feet he growled at me a bit as I tried to prevent him running away and then he ran off up the track with me running behind him calling his name and praying he wouldn’t make it as far as the road.

Eventually he responded to my calls and stopped to look at me. Eventually he fearfully and slowly approached me as he regained his senses. Thank God! If I hadn’t already been weeping with fear I’d have wept with relief.

I decided enough was enough and took him to the vet. Her advice was amazing. Apparently they have two main types of treatment for epilepsy. One could damage his kidneys, and she didn’t want to prescribe it as he’s only just turned two. The other treatment doesn’t actually work. Hhhmm. There’s Hobson’s choice if I’ve ever seen it.

What happens next is a tale I’m saving for tomorrow.

Funeral day

Funny things, funerals. One minute you’re crying. The next you’re hugging someone you haven’t seen for years and having a good old laugh. Two minutes later you’re crying again. So many emotions in such a short space of time. No wonder we all feel a bit shell shocked and tired.

As funerals go it was a nice one. Boofuls delivered a eulogy and delivered it beautifully. There wasn’t a dry eye in the church, then they expected us to sing!

The people who live close enough have set off in their journey’s home. Leaving us feeling relieved we don’t see them too often.

We’ll set off home tomorrow and get ready to repeat the whole exercise again next week.

You couldn’t make it up. Chapter one

The first chapter starts way back in the mists of time, other wise known as last week when I popped into B & Q to pick up some  colour charts to help me find the perfect colour for my bedroom wall.

I pinned all the charts onto the wall against my lovely sparkly ‘feature wall’ paper and eventually decided that the best colour was one called ‘bumble’. Why it was called bumble I can’t imagine. It didn’t look anything like a bee or honey, it was just a very pale champagne colour and it blended in with the wallpaper beautifully. Just perfect.

Boofuls and me picked up the paint along with a few brushes and various other bits and bobs as you do when you go into B & Q. You know how it is – go in for a screw and come out with a full load.


Boofuls was out last night so I started the onerous task of turning the coffee coloured walls in the bedroom to ‘bumble’.  Why is it never straightforward? It became very obvious very quickly that turning a dark wall light was going to take more than one coat of crap B & Q own brand emulsion. Doncha just love doing a job twice, maybe even three times?

After a couple of hours I got fed up, cleaned the brushes and left it with the intention of picking it up again tonight.

Fast forward to this morning.

Remember the friend who dropped dead recently? It was his funeral this morning.  Funerals. I just hate all the meaningless platitudes that people churn out at these events. Ask Winklepop about meaningless platitudes, she’s had a ton of ’em.

Boofuls, me Winklepop and bezzie all turned up to a packed crematorium.  As funerals go it was perfectly fine. I’m sure he would have enjoyed all the attention and laughed his socks off at the tears. I can imagine him saying,  “What are you crying about you big girls blouse? ”

After the funeral, still a bit upset, I went home and decided to get changed and crack on with some painting.  I looked at last night’s handiwork and realised that the paint had dried with a peachy hue. Peachy? I don’t want bloody peachy, I want champagne!

I picked up the tin of paint and inspected the label to make sure I hadn’t picked up the wrong colour. Hmmmm, can’t read it in this light, I’ll take it to the window. The tin slipped out my hand slightly and I took a tighter hold of it, laughing to myself that it was a good job the lid was on tightly as that could have been a proper mess.

As I got to the  window I tilted the tin again to get a better look. The lid flew off and most of the contents of a five litre tin of paint poured all over the windowsill, down the front and back of the radiator, all over my Dawn French book and all over my beautiful jade green carpet. OHHHHHH NOOOOOO!!!!


In my panic, and trying to protect the carpet,  I grabbed my dressing gown and threw it down on the floor to try and catch the paint. What a bloody stupid thing to do. Now I have a ruined dressing gown and a ruined carpet.

Then I turned round to look for something else to limit the damage with and let out a howl as I saw a massive patch of paint on the floor behind me. WHAAAAT?  That must have poured out when I first looked at the label but completely missed me and my clothes, sliding silently onto the floor like an emulsiony ninja carpet assassin. I stood there horrified.


At this point the dog has come upstairs to see what all the fuss was about. He was dancing round the huge patch of paint, threatening to walk through it and spread it right round the house on his great big clodhopping paws.

Now you know how you can never get a builder to turn up for love nor money? Well, bugger me, the builder turned up at exactly that moment, which is exactly when he was supposed to turn up. Unheard of.  My brain was near to overload. I went downstairs to speak to him, instructing Douggie to follow me.

After a few brief words to the builder I went back into the house to realise that the dog had laid down in the paint puddle while I was distracted and the whole of one side of him was a crap B & Q peach colour.

Oh for Gawd’s sake!!!

A squirt of doggie shampoo and a quick hose down with the garden hose sorted out a very disgruntled dog. Disgruntled? I’ll fecking show you disgruntled!

At that point I decided I couldn’t cope any more and phoned Boofuls at work. “Guess what I’ve done?” If I’m honest I didn’t know how I expected him to react. Maybe I was expecting annoyance, anger or even disbelief  but to be honest I wasn’t expecting mirth. That was the bit where all my strength disappeared and I finally dissolved into floods of tears.  He talked to me for a minute or two and then told me, “You’ll have to go now, I can’t wait to tell Lashes.” He was still chuckling as he hung up. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon scooping up paint and trying to get through to the insurance company. At one point I heard a noise behind me and discovered that Douggie the doggie had picked up and eaten one of my socks. One of  the  posh ones I wear with my posh trousers and my posh boots with the lovely folded leather and zip at the back.  The ones I’d taken off and discarded in a heap on the bed after realising I needed to get some old clothes on for my massive clean up operation.  He was tucking in to my posh sock with relish. I’m not sure I’ll get another wear out of it:


Luckily, I was feeling much better by then with Boofuls’ words of wisdom still ringing in my ears and was able to just shake my head and say “Oh, Douggie, you are such a bad doggie. Come here and give me a cuddle you bad sod.”

So what were the magic words that took me from nervous breakdown to relative serenity in no time?

“On a scale of things love, this is nothing. We’ve still got each other and mornings like this morning really help to get things like this into perspective. It’s only a carpet. Don’t worry about it.  ”

What would I do without my Boofuls, eh?

Now, excuse me. I have to go and scrape up some more paint.