***!!!?!!!***...

What are you views on the use of?

I do try ever so hard not to, however... WSD (wicked step daughter) says I write exactly as I speak, when she reads my emails, blog, she hears me speaking.  Is that good I wonder? I am a cliche queen, in my world exclamation marks seem the norm.

I read folks blogs who obviously have a far better grasp of English grammar than I have, I am full of respect for the ease and flow of their words.  Mine I feel do reflect my life and the odd way I look at it.  This blog after all is for me to look back on and maybe think what a lot of twaddle!?!

It is a beautiful morning here, I am sat with the door open, the sea is calm.  This early 7 ish, people are about with shopping bags going along to our lovely fish restaurant Griggs, to get the early morning’s catch.  They do wonderful breakfasts and lunches 
on the beach,  Just last Saturday

 we had a superb brunch of bacon and scallop rolls.  With the house in chaos, I love having an excuse not to cook!

Husband is out this afternoon and I was hoping my scooter would have arrived, so I could launch myself off to Sandgate without him fussing and being overprotective.

Unless it magically appears this morning, which I doubt?

The tiler has suggested that I scoot towards Folkestone using my left leg and home with my right.  Being a sensible soul, he has 
pointed out the prom is slightly angled towards the sea, so it makes sense.  Whether my legs are ‘ambidextrous’(you know what I mean?)... only time will tell!

Me getting this scooter is a cause of great mirth... can’t think why!?!

‘Sh*t!’ reverberated...

along the parade and maybe even as far as Boulogne, caught in the feathers of a gull on a day trip to France?

Having a larger than life persona, some might even say of a theatrical bent?  When I think I am whispering my dulcet tones are heard by nearly the whole south coast. 

And the reason for all this, you might wonder?  A galleon in full sail, I set off before the heat of the day to shop with stripy trolley and straw hat.  A vision if ever there was one, trouble 

is, not of the drop down dead gorgeous sort. The wind took my hat off and bowled it along the prom.  Laughing and swearing and years since my bod had ever been out of first gear, I chased after it, swinging the trolley in order to extend the length of my arms!  It stayed just out of reach, until I just managed to catch it!

Plonking it very firmly on my head, I marched onwards with a 
very determined gait. Nobody messes with me in every step.

Looking like this... 
in my dreams!

Mercy mission today...

my lovely adopted mum A is failing, she needs me to take her to the hospital for a hearing test.  Every day we talk on facetime and by her own admission she is getting weaker.  For her to admit this is a major milestone.  All through these last eighteen months of chronic tummy problems she has battled on.  My love and respect for her knows no bounds.  We talk about death, husband is a good man, he didn’t miss a beat when I suggested to him we should look after her affairs when she dies.  A tricky task as what little money she has she wants us to siphon off to her son in small amounts as he has lots of mental health issues.  He lives in a hostel in London after years of living rough.  A. thinks he will 

put a large amount on the 2.30 at Newmarket, that or give it away!  We have interesting times ahead.

On a brighter note, I am out of the way when the chatty tiler man cometh!  A result!  As they say in South London.

The floor last night, ready for the tiles.

Twinkle toes with...

treads like Pirelli’s rallycross finest.
Due in no small part to paddling around barefoot on concrete floors.

This is the scene today.
Chaos... the tiler is here, the kitchen is out of bounds as we wait for the levelling compound to set.  No cooking for me tonight, a 
result!  Although catching sight of myself in a shop window today, that is no bad thing.  I could easily get away with not eating for a week in order to regain my figure.  If only it was that easy?
Middle age spread has come to stay,  not only for a week’s holiday at the seaside either.  I suspect it will be harder to budge than a grown up child enjoying the home creature comforts by way of mum doing their cooking, washing and ironing, not to mention the peppercorn rent!
Here I sit looking at this scene straight out of Steptoe’s 
parlour, bored, as we wait for the stuff to set.  I wouldn't mind but in order to go upstairs to spend a penny, the cloakroom is being worked on as we speak, I have to go out of the door at the front, round to the back door which is actually the front door.  Are you still with me?  Probably not!
Due to the wall to wall chat I have found a reason to walk into Hythe twice today.  In theory I should be lithe and sylph-like especially after yoga this morning.  It unfortunately doesn’t seem to be working like that though!  Even the cold showers to burn off the bad fat are hard to ascertain?

‘What to do...

next for badness?’  Is my constant cry.  I am waiting with bated breath for my scooter to arrive and then when I get up early I can on a beautiful day like today scoot off along the prom.

Sitting here with the door open it is fascinating to see the folk out and about at an early hour.  A really, like really thin woman has just power walked by twice.  Podge  sits here and idly wonders if that why she is so skinny?  Cyclists out for a gentle perambulation, dog walkers, men with cameras to catch the sunrise.  All peaceful and quiet, a magical time, better than any nature programme on the box.

The weekend normality is now a thing of the past as the beautiful doors fitted are now off in readiness for the tiler to weave his magic along with his web of words!

The huge panes of glass, then the grand finale... roll of drums might be appropriate here...

the parquet floor.

The kitchen will have to wait until funds allow.

At least I’m not a fitted, all singing all dancing sort of kitchen prima donna.  I save those tendencies for the more mundane aspects of my chaotic life.

Me in 

‘Up the revolution!’

mode. 

Will I ever grow old gracefully?

Not a chance!

A scooter...

and the week ahead.

The floor tiles are coming tomorrow, all well and good.

There is one small problem, well to call it small is the understatement.  The tiler is huge  added to which he talks a lot.  Although I enjoy goss like the next person I do have a low boredom threshold when it comes to  chat.  There is a lot of preparatory work to be done levelling floors, removing shelves in the pantry, moving furniture upstairs and so on.  All this accompanied by a touch of the verbals!  Oh and not to mention the DUST!

I have been threatening to get away, a holiday on the coast or some such!?!  A good idea until I suddenly realise I now live on the coast so perhaps, not such a cunning plan?

For a while now I have been thinking of getting a scooter.  No not the type the mods used to ride 

kitted out in parkas with fur 
around the hood and cuffs, but the sort you had as a child.

Husband has been trying to put me off by saying that I will develop one leg more than the other, then find myself walking round in circles!  I countered this with saying I would scoot to Folkestone pushing with my right leg and then my left to return,  Sounds like a very good plan to me!  He is not so sure?  Anyway to cut a long story short and with the very real need to get away from the building chaos this next week and beyond I have ordered myself a scooter.  My plan is to scoot along the prom to the Harbour Arm, Folkestone, order a flute of champagne and sit looking out to sea.  Overtones of the French Lieutenants Woman on the Cobb in Lyme Regis, minus the cloak obviously!  It would surely hamper my progress if the wind filled it.  Added to which it 
might get into the wheels and shoot me into the sea.  

  

What is a girl to...

do with the rope from a gorilla cage?  I ask you?

It was obvious to me, wind it through the railings... naturally!

Contently I beavered away intent on my task little knowing that I was being watched.  The rope I ought to say probably hadn’t had so much attention since leaving the gorilla family.

Last night we went out for a meal.  It is still a novelty to walk to so many lovely restaurants.  Part of the reason for moving to Hythe... to walk and we do!  We got chatting to a couple on the next table, they asked where we lived and she instantly said

‘I thought I recognised you, 

what were you doing with that huge rope, we couldn’t work it out?’

They went on to say they had seen the big yellow bag and were intrigued as to the length of time it had been there, major work obviously!

Me, being me suggested next time they call in.  Well I do have 

previous: man despairs of me inviting the world and his wife in for tea.  It’s what I do, why should I change?

Can you see the rope?

The jury is still out as to whether it will stay and of course the man being a killjoy did say ‘Well it will have to come out when I paint the railings!’

Little does he know the job I had,

I plan to be out that day!?!  

There once was...

an ugly duckling...

You have all heard the story, I’m sure?

Well, I have previous as the police might say, especially on ebay.  To give you an idea I once bought a sack barrow on ebay when I was idly looking for a metre or two of hessian!

I will at some stage be getting a new kitchen, not for me the all singing all dancing, cost an arm and a leg sort, just a kitchen with style and panache.  I need a sink, not the usual, why doesn’t that surprise you I idly wonder?

I found an old sink that looked a treat, not your on trend butler’s sink, something a little different.

This was the one, alright some TLC  was required... not a problem.
The bid was duly accepted, the man was sent to Sittingboune to collect all 71 kilos of ceramic.
Boy was I pleased.  It did look forlorn and in need of some Ajax and attention.  

This is the handsome brute now.
Next problem is locating a kitchen base unit capable of supporting the weight of a lead lined sarcophagus. 
No prob., I’m just off to look on ebay...

A funny sort of...

a day.

We went on a train, a special little train...

Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch Light Railway.

We went to a special destination...

A power station?

Dungeness.

Happily we trundled along the 13 miles taking a sedate hour and ten to get there.

We were heading for a shed in the shingle serving ale.

He was concerned...

‘What will you drink?’

What with me not being a beer drinker.

He needn’t have bothered as the glass put before me of bubbles I cautiously sipped.  This is good I thought, I will happily drink this!  

‘Is it okay?’

‘Yes, very!’

‘It’s Chapeldown!’

My favourite!  This day of hairy 
heaps of real ale drinking men 
standing around in a bleak spot overlooking Dungeness Power station, suddenly took on a warm fuzzy feeling!  I was happy.

Added to which I had decided to wear my Chinese thick silk dressing gown.  It had a dragon on the back... it somehow seemed appropriate, don,t ask me why?

That decision not only drew many comments but also ensured I was toasty and warm.

I talked plants with a lady gardener, she explained how to harvest the seed of the beach poppies, and other plants 
suited to my sea facing garden.  When to go back, and should we have a horticultural train trip in a month or two for us to do a little light scrumping?
Sounds like a plan!

Our conversation on the train home was of plants and personal 
relationships.  She, for a slip of a lass had sunk many pints, me well I had quaffed more than a few flutes, found ourselves fluent in

real ale and real life!

A lovely day.

Doorknobs and Broomsticks...

sort of a day.

For the joiner it has been a witchypoo sort of a carry on.

Just as the bacon butties were about to be served, he hit a snag. The penultimate screw on the last door broke off in the oak frame.  He was not best pleased, who would be?  Truth be told he probably thought hang three doors, should be home by early afternoon!  Then the funky handles and catches I have chosen haven’t been exactly a doddle.

On the upside he has been 

well fed!

We are ever so slowly getting our new home as we want it.  

Today I bought..

a green cock...

Why, who knows?

Isn’t he the most handsome brute of a bird?

Made by Dartmouth pottery.

Don’t look now...

but this is my latest pressie... 

a staddlestone, seen here in my minute garden by the sea.

Picture taken after he had gone home.

My latest squeeze...

no names, no pack drill!?!

As I look out to...

sea from under my palm, I got to thinking...

we have met much nicer people in the six months we have been in Hythe than the whole of the thirteen plus years we were in our last village.

What does that tell you I idly wonder?

Is it us that has changed or where we live?  I will leave you to decide?

No! Can you...

believe two people have said that to me this week?  Me, of all people!

The first occasion was at yoga.  Due to my fall a couple of weeks ago my back is still twitchy. Our teacher has been keeping an eye on me, as I do have previous in my bull at a gate attitude in most things, yoga notwithstanding!

On Wednesday we were doing a pose and so far so good, then she took it a stage further.

‘Not for you L!’

‘Err, I feel okay, can I try?’

‘NO!’

No other words accompanied that one word... boy did my respect for her grow apace!  It gave me no other place to go than sit it out.

What a woman!

On returning home I told himself 

and builder, they were impressed at her courage?

Then blow me, if my hairdresser went and uttered the very same word.  I was early for my appointment so was more than happy to sit and watch him cut a woman’s hair.  She had the sort of hair all my life I have wanted, wonderful straight swingy hair.  That sort of hair shows off a beautiful cut and boy was he doing a good job of it.  I decided there and then to ask him to do a 

similar cut for me.

His reply?  Yes, you’ve guessed it...

No!

The word hung in the air for a 

while as our faces looked at each other in the mirror.  The shock writ large on my face...

Twice in a week?  

He obviously had no idea.  His reasoning was, he could definitely  do it and blow dry it to look similar, however tomorrow it certainly wouldn’t look the same.

So back to my original planned haircut.

There’s something in the air here in Hythe with all these No’s  flying about.  And I ought to say I feel the better for it!

A rose by...

any other name 

would smell as sweet.

The rose given me by our builder this morning in front of my newly fitted pantry door.

Bugger...

seems to be my word of the moment.

Sad, I know!

The thing is, I have a fruity turn of phrase: where this comes from, I have no idea?

My father was very refined and the worst swear word I ever heard him say was ‘Sod it!’  which in my book is very mild.

Where the cuckoo in the nest, that is ME came from is a mystery?

In the old days I would make him laugh with my risqué jokes.

He was a good man...

Edward Sydney Steward...

I miss him and wish I had a tad more of his refinement in my veins.

So many things have happened in my life since he died in 1990: would he have been proud of his only child?

I rather think he would.

A photograph of him and his sister my Auntie Marjorie, affectionately known as Auntie Margarine,

What is this with...

mobile phones?

I don’t get it!  This morning I watched a woman setting off to take her dog for a lovely bracing walk along the prom.  She was on the phone... what was that all about?  Couldn’t it wait until she got home, allowing her time to take in the lovely day?  It isn’t only the young, older folk are on the same kick, walking, sitting, shopping, having a coffee.  In the hospice shop last Friday a mobile phone went, the woman with a foghorn voice answered it as she carried on flicking through the rails of clothes.  All in the shop heard that her friend was running late and then she went into a long description as to which charity shop she could be found in.  As the call ended the whole shop breathed a sigh of relief.  Trouble was the call had obviously jogged her memory and she then decided to call someone else to tell them about her verruca, (it wasn’t exactly that, but it could 
so easily have been!) all the while on the look out for a bargain.

People stroll along the street in deep discussion about the price of cheese in Woolworths oblivious to the scooter approaching from behind to relieve them of their much loved latest gizmo phone and if you ask me they have jolly well asked for it!

Just don’t get me on about driving and texting...

Why is it...

that as you age your eyebrows get more sparse and your chin gets more prickly, I wonder?

I sit in the morning looking out to sea, my gaze is centred mainly into the strong magnifying mirror.  This way the early morning sun picks out every emerging prickle.

I turn my head this way and that in order to spy out the tough white ones, that like my chins have been around the block a few times.  If I grew them I would have a queue of fishermen lining up along the prom for the very latest in strong fishing line.  No plastic has been killed to make these beauties... organic even!

It never ceases to amaze me how after viewing my phizog from every which way, the odd one escapes my notice.  Hiding, no doubt in a wrinkle the like of which you see on our pothole infested roads.

Much later, coming on strong to a dishy man at a gathering, no not a  boil?  I trip to the ladies to powder my nose and horror of horrors there smack bang in the middle of my chin is a hair the like of which you would expect to see growing out of a witches wart!

Oh, the joys!

Things I find...

tiresome about getting old.

Always calling a spade a spade, I have become far more outspoken as I’ve got older.  Although over supper tonight I asked himself if I had, he replied no, I’m pretty much the same.  It certainly doesn’t feel it from this side, I ought to say!  Perhaps it’s because I care more.  A case in point was today, when an eagerly awaited joiner was arranged to come to hang doors and the beautiful oak framing for the glass wall and stairs.  He had come along to see the job and said he couldn’t come until this Monday.  Monday, came and went, this morning he phoned to say he was delayed and eventually turned up after mid day,  Our builder wasn’t best pleased as a week had been wasted waiting for him.  He took one look at what was expected and even I could see he didn’t want the job.  I kept quiet while R gallantly put forward the plan of action.  He ummd and aahd, giving lame excuses at every turn.

Still I kept quiet, until I just couldn’t keep schtum a nano second longer...

‘It is clear to me you don’t want to do the job so why don’t you just say so!’

He was out of the door before you could say tenon saw!

I wasn’t so worried about us.  I was extremely angry on behalf of our wonderful builder who had moved heaven and earth to get us the best possible people.  

This is just the tip of the iceberg of my disenchantment with the ageing process.

More tomorrow...

Comments...

who needs them?

Well, she would say that wouldn’t she!  Especially as so few comment on her blog!

I love the idea of blogs as a forum, with folk free to comment and express their views.  Hyde Park Speakers Corner in cyber space.

All good so far?

However what really hacks me off is the weird and wonderful comments that pop up without a 
cotton picking thing to do with anything you have said.  Folk peddling their dubious wares.

What is that all about?  Do they get trade from this?  Maybe?

Or does it have a far more sinister intent?

This is exactly the thing that made me stop blogging before.

Not to put too fine a point on it ...

BLOG OFF!

Try living an honest life.

This post was prompted by a weird rambling comment left on yesterday’s blog, which now has mysteriously disappeared?
What is going on?  At least thus far I haven’t got a troll...
I shouldn’t have said that!?!

FaceTime is...

the way forward for me with my adopted mum A.

We have been chatting like this for a while, even arguing online... can you believe it?

Today I contacted her and received no reply, always a worry.
I went off upstairs to start the much dreaded pile of ironing.  When she phoned back I propped up the ipad and carried on ironing.
What a revelation that was, I was happy talking and doing something useful instead of sat thinking of all the things I could be getting on with.  We chatted on, the ironing got done, without me realising it.  Next time we talk I will arrange to be repointing the chimney, a job nobody enjoys. Added to which if the Queen Mary 2 sails by as it did the other evening I can turn the tablet to show her, mindful obviously of not  falling off the roof in the process!

I’m in a bit...

a bit of a quandary?

My blood pressure is rising.

The bottom line unfortunately is I am not happy, could this be the reason for the spike I wonder?

That and the fact I am eating far more cake and biscuits.  Yes you read that right!  We have had a lot of building work done, ongoing.  This is maybe the crux of this moment in health time.  I cook that is what I do, I especially love feeding people. No cheapo own brand biscuits for my workmen.  I make them a homemade cakes, scones and biscuits and provide lunch.  Trouble is we sit down together and I join in, it would be churlish not to!

The other thing is... I miss my garden and ancient 300+ year old cottage.  Sitting yesterday looking out to sea I had a physical pain in my heart thinking back to my wild garden, the pond, greenhouse, frogs and hedgehogs.

This past life is also tied up 

with memories of my much loved and sorely missed dog.  I am working on the man to convince him we should get a dog, he is staying resolute, firmly against.  In fairness, I do blow hot and cold on the idea, as I feel it would be unfair on a dog for me to be constantly comparing.  Added to which is it displacement therapy to use a canine companion as a cure all?

  Our first Christmas day in Hythe 2017

Frosted glass is...

so last century!

I have a yen for glass that I can see out of but people promenading past can’t look in.

Is that so awful?

Net curtains are up there with tripe in my estimation...

Naff and not something any sane person would contemplate.

Having said that I am fully aware I am coming across as a total snobberoony... have you any thoughts on net curtains?

Thinking about it I suppose they go in and out of fashion like avocado bathroom suites, flying ducks, pictures of green faced oriental women, fondue sets, bread makers and that abomination of all things culinary... a pasta machine.  Who in their right mind would want to make their own pasta?  When the Italians, who have been doing it for thousands of years (Oh, and the making of pasta?) do a very good job of it. 
 It is just down to us then to 
totally muck it up by cooking it like our veggies until it has lost the will to live.