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Friday, 10 August 2018

Is Lakeland...

the latter-day Betterware or Kleeneze...  
I idly wonder?
Looking through their
Autumn 2018 brochure I notice the word Plastic has gone from their company name... wonder why!?!  Call me an old cynic, I really don’t care.

Am I showing my age by feeling all nostalgic?  Remember the brushes that were designed to clean between the all the rage venetian blinds, the curved brush for who knows what?  The clothes prop for the washing line?  The clothes hanging peg bag, the polish, the egg beater?

I well remember Auntie Nell confiding to my mother about the Kleeneze man whose brush reached the parts other brushes had until that one... never reached!!!





Who in their...

right mind makes their own pasta.
I am a chef/cook and wouldn’t for one second contemplate making it!
I read in today’s paper that Italian nonna are a huge hit on the television making pasta.
My only, never to be repeated experience was to an Italian matriarch in St Leonard’s.
She kneaded the pasta with the air of the Boston strangler.
It seemed to take forever, all the while notching up the fear.  The rolling pin was brandished like a sabre.  I fully expected her to turn to the fridge and get out a horse’s head to make the sauce.



Relief flooded over me as I scuttled to the car.
‘I got away!’
I roared off, all the while thinking life is too blooming short to make your own pasta.
Scarred for life by fettuccine.
Call me a wimp I don’t care.
Added to which the Italians make some belissimo dried pasta.

They have been doing it for thousands of years, why would I want to compete?


Wednesday, 8 August 2018

She said...

‘I have taken those drugs before and they will make me psychotic!’  
They have, and her evil ire is aimed at me!
We picked Audrey up from hospital yesterday, set her up safely at home.
Today, she on faceTime is accusing us of dropping her in it, not to put too fine a point on it
the frigging brown and smellies!
It was all our fault that we arrived ten minutes early and prevented her from taking the all important paperwork with her to hospital.

‘I was just in the middle of highlighting the pertinent points, when you arrived!’

The fact she could hardly breathe was completely forgotten.

She fired off a list of things we had said that in her mind meant she didn’t get the treatment she 
should have got.  Completely forgetting that armed with my iPad I at every stage from reception to triage nurse to doctor showed them the email that explained her team were expecting her.

My B.P. shot off the scale, hers tickled along at 120/80...
is that I idly wonder, why she is still up and at it at 93, 94 in September?

Where to go from here, when I am rapidly feeling I am totally and utterly out of my depth.

Today the renovations are finally done, the glass is in and looks superb, pictures are hung.  Just the bit now I like the best, the scene setting and fiddling.  

I’m fiddling alright while the Rome that is more commonly known as Aud burns with anger and angst.



Happy days!

Saturday, 4 August 2018

Have cobweb will...

travel.



Can you believe this has been with me every one of the sixty eight miles there and back to see Audrey in hospital?
You will have heard of the worldwide web?  This is it 
personified!  Alright not exactly 
worldwide, Kentwide any road!  

Speeding along in my Brabus Smart car it bucked and flexed, but didn’t break.
Audrey update.
We have what I take to be a fairly typical mother, daughter relationship.  Not having a mum for forty seven years I forget how it goes.  My old mum, when she died was 48, no age to die.  She 
was loving and we had a super open caring and cuddly relationship.  Audrey is highly intelligent, she went to university back in the year dot.  Has the full compliment of faculties and some: running 
rings around my simple brain.  What we do share however is a degree, (the only one I can claim anyway!)... Masters in Battleaxemanship.

‘Just let her talk!  Man said kindly as he waved me off.
And talk, she did.
One of my cotton nighties I had taken in for her was given short shrift.
‘Take it back!’
Don’t rise to the bait flashed through my mind!  She sat 
resplendent in red satin jim-jams, talking through mouthfuls of fish and chips. She looked thin and pale, at the same time as looking  for all the world like a galleon in full sail.   Capt Jack Sparrow 
would have been proud to take the helm of such a magnificent craft.  Tugboat Lett moored alongside the bed, melting in the heat.
A dishy doctor came in
‘Who are you?’
I, by this time had lost the power of speech.
‘Err, I am a friend of Lett’s, err, double err... Audrey!
Her smile, lit up the room as she gazed into his eyes.  Pity all talk was of poo and nothing more 
juicy, although on occasions... Stop... too much information. 

The hands of the clock lost the power to move, as the hours dragged by, still she talked. After what to me seemed like three days I suggested she might need a snooze!?! 
‘I think I will have your nightie, the nurses are complaining about me having to remove my pyjama bottoms for the twice daily enemas!’
Back out of my bag it came and 
graciously she accepted it.

As I climbed into my potbelly 
stove of a car, on what seemed like the hottest day of the year, I thought as I weakly drove away...
Audrey is as tough as the 
cobweb on my car.  


Wednesday, 1 August 2018

Writing foibles...

I love to write.
My prose leaves a lot to be desired insofar
as being grammatically correct.  In fact I would say I enjoy doing things my way, for example using words to suit my style of waffle... wrong, but to me right for what I want to get across.
I love repeating a series of the same words, why?  Who knows.  The contrary in me I suppose.  I also enjoy making up words that to me are more descriptive of what I want to say.  It amuses my small brain.  My addiction to exclamation marks and my beloved question mark.  There really should be a rhetorical one that sort of floats slightly higher on the line, if you get my drift?  
I go weak at the knees when I read folk who can obviously write, it seems effortless.  Mine in comparison plods along, sometimes smoother than others.

The other odd thing is tapping out on a machine is where I find the 
words flow; with pen in hand I get all primary school ‘Write a day in the life of a penny’ composition ... bored!

I fire off a post and then think about proof reading!  I need a sub editor, on second thoughts, they would iron out all my funny little ways, then I might just of not bothered.  This at the end of the day is for me.
Why do you do it and come to think it, waste time reading mine?




Monday, 30 July 2018

I’m on the turn...

like milk, ideal for making scones though!
I am pining for my old home, I miss it so much.
For my little dog, I miss her so much.

To walk in the garden without being seen.
The peace and quiet of country living.

These madcap schemes of late are to fill the void, I know that now!
Old LL will return, I know that now!


Me in happier times judging a cake contest at UCL...
What is there not to like?  The chance to taste lots of different cakes?


Sunday, 29 July 2018

As we sat over our...

breakfast we got to talking about past home secretaries.  Doesn’t everyone?

‘Pass me the home made brain fade marmalade darling!’
We got to talking politics, which we don’t do in company.  In the comfort of home, we have a gentle chunter about the state of the world.

‘More home made filled with enough seeds to sow a row 100% organic bread toasted dahling?’
In case you haven’t guessed that was me!
‘Who was that man, we both read his autobiography?’

Oh dear! Puzzled our eyes locked across the table, frowns carving their wicked ways across our brows.

‘I’m sure his first name was 
Alan!’

This usually is the first chink into getting it.  This time we struggled.

‘Don’t look it up, it will be good exercise for our brains to stretch!’  

We flopped in our swanky German recliner chairs, no geriatric paraphanalia here!  Our tummies working overtime to digest seeds
and the contents of one turn of a huge quern stone.  Our brains pulsing with the open cast mining of information.  Idly Looking to see if anyone other than travelzoo, John Lewis, habitat and    Ironmongery Direct had sent me a missive.  It hit me square between the eyes

‘JOHNSON!’ 

I said jumping up in excitement, that bit was a fib.  I don’t do 
jumping, well to be honest that is also a lie because I do on the very rare occasion in yoga, jump to open my legs to do Warrior 2, only if I feel that way out, mind!


















The cake from...

hell and other assorted titbits.


The thing is I used to be a cook.
Every day of my working life I baked a cake to be served at the meal of the day most cooks hate... 
afternoon tea.  Looking back the creations I turned out where blooming amazing, modesty oozed
from every killer calorie.
This monstrosity, made with eggs, the yolks of which would put the colour of sunflowers to shame, and finest butter was a disaster dahling!  Claggy is the word.  Mary Berry’s recipe: what was I thinking about, as if I don’t know how to do a conventional Victoria sponge? Put everything in a mixer and beat the hell out of it, isn’t the way.  Why did I even consider it, when all said and done the correct way only takes a tad longer?

Scooter is gone and in its place is a bicycle, bought for £30.  I have learnt my lesson about my passing fancies.  If you buy 
cheaply and get fed up you can move on, let someone else have a bargain.  Well that is the theory.
Over the years I must say I have 
wasted rather a lot of money. A tandem, trouble with that is you need a man on the front to do all the work! An exercise bike, ‘I know... I will cycle in front of the television for the hour of the Channel Four news!’ A good plan, the trouble was, if I really wanted to hear the in-depth interview I would stop to listen! A spinning wheel, that did stay the course, I earned money 
spinning and knitting my own designs when I lived in the Highlands.  A badge making press, and all the gear to go with it! Other folks designs were so much better than my pedestrian efforts.
Beads bought in bulk in Thailand to sell on ebay.  Okay, but I did get bored with all the packing and 
postage and answering queries.    Felt making which, even though I say it myself I did do quite well.  I got fed up with the wet water and soap suds and chapped hands.

By now you might be hoping this blogging lark will bite dust and she’ll blog off and leave us in peace... 

Saturday, 28 July 2018

I’m getting old...

I’ve decided.
We’ve had two lovely builder-free days.

‘Shall we go to Rye and see Mama Mia?’  I suggest.



Not his sort of film I agree, however his loving reply.
‘Yes, that would be super!’
he said lying through his back teeth.
Off we go on what is predicted to be the hottest day of the millennium.
Only me could come up with such a crazy idea.
We sat in a lovely courtyard 
garden of a restaurant having a crab salad accompanied by the electric drilling and banter of scaffold men working overhead.  A lovely break from the building noise that has been going on since April at home... Aaah!

‘Does this crab taste bland to you?’

‘Yes!’  I replied, all the while thinking hope they don’t come and
ask... is everything alright?
I scuttled up to the ladies powder room as he paid.  I wasn’t in the mood for anything other than sweetness and light... it was too  hot for one thing!

We wandered around in the heat our steps leaving sun cream and sweat marks on the pavement.  I was 
shopping for razor wire, huge 
gates and lookout towers for the 
second phase of getting the back 
garden people proofed.  The recluse in me is lifting its slumbering dragon head.
Having a tray of tea in a quaint  ye olde worlde tea shop, out of 
the sun and the noise, a phone goes.  Does he wander outside and take the call, does he heck!  The restaurant heard the full sorry tale of whoever, being scammed by someone purportedly from TalkTalk.

‘Now this is what you must do!’ 
he said.  And you know something we all got his definite answer, 
not once but a couple of times.

‘Phone me back to let me know how 
you get on!’

Spare me!


Settling into our seats in the cinema I am sat next to a woman, every few seconds texting, no sound just the light going on and off of her phone. This was after the notice came up 

Turn off your frigging PHONES!

As the film was about to start I turned, looked her straight in the eye and said in my best grumpy old woman voice
‘Are you going to do that all through the film?’ 
I do have a rather sound carrying voice, the row in front turned as one and looked expectantly?

A brilliant silly uplifting film, 
which I ought to say he thoroughly enjoyed. We sang Abba songs all the way home through the thunder, lightning and rain, so no chance of seeing the eclipse then?


Friday, 27 July 2018

Skimpy cozzie to...

full-on head to toe burka swimming apparel.
She swims every day, in the depths of winter with snow on the ground to now.
Early morning on a deserted beach, I wander looking for large stones to put into my water feature.  That close to the sea and you want more water?  For the birds, not me.  My bowl made by a very dear potter friend Chris, seems so right in the garden with its shell edge.  It needs a large stone for the sparrows to feel safe to bathe.


Calm, coolish and quiet this is the best time to be abroad with just the lady swimmer, me and a detectorist.  Sitting on the huge granite sea defence stones I sat with a lap full of treasures.  A can of Stella and a choc ice wrapper by my side.  Not my breakfast, just litter I had picked up along the way.  With my eyes full of the perfect scene, I thought it is not half bad living here...

Wandering along the shore line I soon discovered the reason behind the change of swimming gear.  The warm weather has brought not so welcome visitors...
jelly fish.

Thursday, 26 July 2018

All my life as a...

Leo, middle August born, I have craved the spotlight.  Or have I?
The header on my blog might give a clue.  I have come to the conclusion that instead of seeking the limelight I have a very real need to be alone.  

Living here has made me realise I don’t do people.  The idea like the smell of coffee roasting, is so much better than the drinking.  The smell of bacon cooking so much more exciting than the eating.  The planning of menus so much more enjoyable than the entertaining.  Although today I have enjoyed a family visit so there is hope I am not becoming a total recluse.

I envy the likes of A. who says at 93, I don’t know where the day has gone?  She is content with her own  company.  Reading Elaine of ‘Tales from Parsonage Cottage’ brother’s blog, he seems happy enjoying his solitary life on the dried up canals of England, check him out.
 A very funny writer, just wish I could easily comment without all the ib,dip,dab,dob carry on of whatever whacky platform he’s on.  
 I can well imagine him now on the poop deck having a gin with angostura bitters... pink gin I think it’s called?   A
A chaser of beef tea might be appropriate as he could conceivably be classed as ‘at sea’?


Is Lakeland...

the latter-day Betterware or Kleeneze...   I idly wonder? Looking through their Autumn 2018 brochure I notice the word Plastic has gone...