Sunday, 27 April 2014

Day of rest...? Pfffffffffffffft.

Mr G is still in hospital *sigh*.  He was hoping to come home but his consultant has said no.  Personally I agree, I don't think he's well enough yet to come home.  He's got one lot of IV antibiotics left to go, and he still has the drain in, and he's still in a lot of pain.  The nurses are better equipped there than I am to deal with pain management and I don't relish the thought of him being here with that bag of gunk.  Yuk.  Although I am missing him terribly, I think he's in the right place for now.

So it's back to school tomorrow, and the poor children have had a dismal Easter holiday really, but they did get a couple of days out.  We'll more than make up for it in the Summer holidays, especially knowing that Mr G will be fighting fit.

I didn't visit Mr G this afternoon as he still hadn't seen his consultant, who had been called to theatre.  He told me to stay home, and to be honest it was a help, making sure all the children were bathed and showered ready, taking stock of what I needed to pull out of the freezer, organising their packed lunches ready for tomorrow and so on.  I actually managed to make a huge batch of my curry base sauce and a tandoori marinade.  I'm going to marinate my meat overnight (yes, I know!  How organised?) and tomorrow make a Chicken Tikka Masala and a Chicken Tikka Masala Phal up to the cream stage and freeze them for the weekend.  His appetite isn't up to much yet, but I should imagine that by next Saturday night, he'll be ready for a good scoff.

He's come out with a belter today, so crude, I don't know if I dare repeat it.  Oh alright then.

Mr G:  I still haven't had a poo but you could fly a kite with the wind I had.

Me:  Awwww baby.

Mr G:  I asked the Doctor for something to help me go and he said he'll schedule an enema.  I said no, I'll have Nitromors (which for those who don't know, is a paint stripper...)

Me:  Lactulose?

Mr G:  That's the one.  Anyway, when you get here, I need you to help me put some clean shorts on and while you're there, would you baby wipe my ring for me?  I couldn't reach properly with my little arms, I was in too much pain to stretch.

Me:  You can *expletive* off.  I'm not going anywhere near your ring!  You haven't bathed since Wednesday! 

Is ANYONE else's husband like this?  'Baby wipe my ring for me'?  REALLY?  That was not in my wedding vows...?

Tell me it's not just my husband?  It is, isn't it?

*Sob*

M x


Saturday, 26 April 2014

Lucky Man!

Mr G is back.  Not back home, but back in the land of the living, and more importantly, back to his usual mischief making self... Knew the silence wouldn't last...

However!  He spoke to the Surgeon who performed his op this morning about how it had gone.

Surgeon:  So, when did you have your appendix out?  I can't see any mention of it in your notes?

Mr G:  I haven't had my appendix out.

Surgeon:  Well, it's not there...

*Silence*

*Tumbleweeds*

*Church bell chiming in the distance*

Mr G:  Um.  Where is it then?

Surgeon:  It's likely that it has ruptured, and with you having this problem with the gallbladder at the same time you won't have realised... but if that is what has happened, you are a very lucky man to still be here.  It's probably a good job that you're so big and strong otherwise...

Sheesh! 

I got this text from him this morning...

Normal service has been resumed...

I can just imagine him, lying there watching the scene, tittering to himself.  The little sod he is. 

They are going to keep him in today, and hopefully all being well, he can come home tomorrow.  I can't wait for him to be back, I am completely useless without him.  Well, we're both useless without each other.  We are, admittedly, one of those sickening couples who are amazing together, a force to be reckoned with, but apart, we're just wandering around aimlessly, desperate to get back to each other.  And I don't care either, I like it that way.  Wouldn't have it or him any other way.  Miss him so much :-(  The next couple of weeks are going to be tough, but I've nursed him through much bigger recoveries than this.  May have to put my birthday celebrations on hold for a few weeks but that's a small price to pay if that means that he's fit and healthy again.  He's had about 6 years now of constant ill health, and I really hope that this is now the end of it for him.  I want my husband back :-)

M x

Friday, 25 April 2014

Poor Mr G

Awwwwwwww.   Mr G had his operation today.  I spoke to him last at about 9.30 this morning, where he told me that he would be going to theatre in the next hour or two.  I phoned at lunch time and he was still in theatre.  I phoned at 3 pm and he was out of theatre, back on the ward and sleeping. 

I sent him a text, usually after an op, the moment he's awake he's on his phone, sending me a text to let me know he's ok.  Even when he'd had his shoulder done, he managed it one handed.  I didn't hear back from him, so I went to visit tonight.

When I arrived the curtain was pulled down to the edge of the bed so I couldn't see.  He was vomiting into a cardboard hat.  The nurse went to fetch an anti sickness medication for his drip.  He looked a funny colour, almost jaundiced.  I had to try and get him to take sips of water and he was shaking his head.  He didn't speak at all.  Slept most of the visit.  Had to keep an oxygen mask on.  I managed to get a few slight nods from him to fill in his lunch menu.  This stuff was draining from the wound into a bag by the side of the bed.  I have never seen him so poorly in my life, I really felt for him.  I wrote a little note, folded it and pressed it into his hand, to let him know I loved him and I had come to see him as he probably wouldn't remember.  Picked up his old newspapers and dirty clothes and put them in a bag.  And just sat silently for the hour ready to pounce with the cardboard hat.  It was horrible seeing him like that, and I hope that he's better tomorrow.  I'm sure he will be.  It was the quietest I've seen him in 15 years. 

I asked the nurse if it had been done keyhole and she said yes, which is something I suppose, at least the healing time won't be so bad.  I'm not sure when they will let him home but I doubt very much that it will be tomorrow.  Then the fun will begin, nursing my husband back to health - again!  It's become a full time job in itself these last few years!  I have, however, pre-emptively hidden his bell.  Lessons were learned *nods*

Thankfully we went shopping the day it happened but give it a few days the way my brood can scoff food (think locusts...) and I will have to start begging and scrounging lifts here and there to go food shopping until he can drive again.  Which I hate doing, I really hate imposing on friends and family.  I know they don't mind and Steve would do the same for them in an instant but still.  Times like this I really wish I could drive, but the world is a safer place without me on the roads.  Trust me on that ;-)

Bed now, it's been a long, long day.

M x

Thursday, 24 April 2014

Operation!

Well, what a whirlwind 24 hours.  Never let it be said that my wonderful husband is not romantic.  Mr G treated me to a night out last night (and chauffeur driven too...!)  Unfortunately it was spent in a bay in Accident and Emergency in Ysbyty Gwynedd, and my ride wasn't so much horsedrawn carriage as... well... blues and twos! 

Regular readers will know that he's been a bit poorly lately, suspected gallbladder/stones problem and is waiting for a scan.  He's in pain daily, and has had to go to Casualty, his own GP, out of hours Doctors, just trying to find pain relief that works.  Nothing has up to now.  Last night he collapsed in pain, I've never seen him so bad.  It came on so quickly.  I didn't know what to do and when he told me to phone 999 I knew it had to be really unbearable. 

We got there about 6 pm and he was hooked up to a drip, and they tried a couple of analgesics, none of which did anything.  Obs were fine, bloods were fine (which they always are...).  I had to leave him about 10.40 pm as I had to get back to the kids.  I don't drive.  After speaking to the Doctor who had been treating him, she wanted him to see a Surgical Doctor and wasn't sure what time that would be or if they would keep him in.  After assuring me I could go home and they would make sure he was sent home safely (which really reassured me!) I went home.  He called about half an hour after to say he was on a ward, and was being sent for X-Rays (which will probably come back clear...) and that he would be kept in.  They must have checked the system and his scan letter was finally in the post (for May 9th!).  So they told him they would push for it to be brought forward to today or tomorrow and he called to say he was nil by mouth and that he was being scanned at 3 pm today.

He was scanned and was told he had gallstones and an inflamed gallbladder, and he'd need to speak to the Consultant when he was at his bed.  Also - his gallbladder isn't where (dare I say it?  Dare I?) normal people's gallbladders are.  His is way up behind his ribcage.  This is nothing, he has arteries in the wrong place as well.  That's my boy...  I texted him a few minutes before leaving for visiting him tonight and he phoned me.

'I'm having it taken out tomorrow!'

Ye Gods...

Turns out it's bad enough to warrant a mammoth queue jump... gone from no scan to a scan and an operation date in under 24 hours, which by anyone's standards is pretty impressive? 

So, all in all he was quite amusing today, trying to remember what pain relief he'd had.  Three sheets to the wind, and all on this wonder drug, apparently.

Me:  So, what have they tried you on today?

Mr G:  I had that drip thing again, don't know what was in it.  Then I had two Omeprazole, Buscopan and some Calpol.

Me:  Calpol eh?  Radical...

Aaaaaaaaaaaand...

Mr G:  I need to speak to the Anaethelist.  Anaethesist.  That man that puts you to sleep.

Me:  Mmmmmmmmmmkay...

Oh and...

Mr G:  Did you get any sleep last night?

Me:  Eventually, went up about 1.  Tossed and turned.  Got woke up by text at 6.50.  Cried.  Threw phone.  Went back to sleep until 8.  You?

Mr G:  I didn't get much.  I couldn't starship in this bed.  It was too narrow.

Starshipping in bed folks.  It's the new thing.  Mark my words, you heard it here first!    

In other news, less interesting but no less medical for you!  I had my X-Ray yesterday. 

No, that's it. 

That is it.  I told you it was less interesting.  No dramas with me.  Yet ;-)

Right, I also have to say.  I have had a dig or two (or seven) about my local hospital.  So in case anyone thinks I'm a complete hypocrite (which I try so hard not to be!) - I've given birth to my four children at YG.  They looked after me after we lost our first child.  My son's life was saved there when he contracted Meningitis and Septicaemia.  They've cared for my husband when he's had operations (although latterly Wrexham Maelor) and my Father when he had a heart attack, and my Nain also spent her last days there.  I have no issue with the staff.  At all.  Ever.  Wonderful staff.  However, my hubby has repeatedly contracted infections there.  My Father also after his heart attack.  My brother before he was transported to Stoke.  It's the way the NHS is run in parts of the UK, and I can safely say parts, after seeing how my brother was cared for across the border in Stoke, my father in law in Wigan.  We're talking people in suits, in offices, that quite frankly, shouldn't be there.  Stoke?  Stoke had MATRONS.  On pretty much every ward I passed.  You went in the door?  You were met with a picture of the team, and at the top, was Hattie Jacques.  Glaring at you.  Place was bloody spotless.  Staff visibly cleaning.  Visibly.  Staff.  Not someone aimlessly pushing a mop, or brandishing a wet wipe.  The actual ward staff, cleaning.   Nurses, Health Care Assistants.  The NHS needs to be looking backwards, not forwards in this instance.  Bugger technology and degrees!  Lose the (wo)men in offices, STOP contracting cleaning out, and put the onus back on the ward itself.  Matrons!  Mark my words... when the buck stopped at the Matron, that's when wards were run.

I actually saw something akin to this last night.  This is mere rambling now, but my husband's 'room' was opposite the reception desk.  I'm a bit of a people watcher.  More so last night, when Mr G was rendered silent (I know, right?).  And ok, I eavesdropped a little too.  I saw this woman come on duty, and she was... I don't know what you'd say.  Ordinary woman.  Probably a mother.  She looked like a Mum.  I'd have been happy as a little one having her as my Mum.  Small.  Attractive.  Normal.  But she looked formidable.  She had that air about her?

She had a walkie talkie with her.  She must have had 10 seconds out of every minute where she wasn't on the phone.  And I listened.  And all she was doing was trying to get people beds on wards, to free up space in A&E, because the ambulances were backed up outside.  And although there may have been five, ten people there more qualified than her (on paper...), you know what, the whole department seemed to bow to her?  And it wasn't in mock reverence either?  It was because she knew how to organise it all.  The buck stopped at her.  And it was probably her that got my husband seen last night.  I know her name because it's signed all over and she used it so many times that night. What a bloody job to have, I really don't envy her but I am so, so grateful for her.

M x

Tuesday, 22 April 2014

(Almost) ashamed to be a Red today

I've been a Manchester United fan for about 21 years.  It was hard not to become dragged in, my father, brother, ex, and my husband are all passionate United fans.  My appreciation for the game has grown as I have got older, and rather than it being inflicted on me, football is a sport I actually enjoy watching.  And yes, I do understand the offside rule.  Or rather, got to understand it.  Eventually ;-)

Today, David Moyes was sacked as our manager.  I wasn't convinced that he was the right man for the job.  I had admired him over the years for what he did at Preston and Everton.  And watching my team's performance this season, it has been disheartening, but at the end of the day Moyes had Fergie's leftovers.  Players on the verge of retirement, players that should already have retired, players who knew they were leaving.  Players who at their peak are amazing, but injury prone.  In any other 'job', if a manager leaves, in comes a new manager, and if those employees don't do their job for whatever reason, it's not the manager that gets sacked.  These are grown men we're talking about, some of whom are earning more money in one week than we'll ever earn in our lives.   And they haven't earned it this season.  A workman is only as good as his tools at the end of the day... and David Moyes doesn't deserve the disrespect he's received.

Moyes should have been given another season, to bring in players, to get rid of the dead wood, and see how he went.  Mark my words, we'll end up one of those teams who have a revolving door, two new managers every season, no continuity, no morale, no silverware, nothing. 

United currently stand at 7th in the table.  They may not improve on that.  Mathematically it could be a place lower.  But I can guarantee you that on the last day of the season, there will be at least three clubs minimum who would gladly trade their league position for United's!



I remember seeing the 'Ta Ra Fergie' banner on TV many, many moons ago, I think I was in my early teens.  I wonder what division we'd be in now if the club hadn't stuck by Fergie? 

#ThankYouMoyes #BringBackMoyes

Monday, 21 April 2014

That Thin Line Between Love and Hate...? Mr G just crossed it.

Happy Easter!  Thought I'd pop in briefly and say hello and let you know how my husband insulted me this week.   We've been entertaining guests this weekend and when they left yesterday, I was completely shattered.  So, so tired.  Mr G and I had surrendered our bed, and rather than kick Caitlin out of hers, we opted for a sofa each.  It has taken its toll... despite only being for two nights.

We had our Easter roast on Saturday as I thought my guests would be leaving early on Sunday, and everyone except Mr G and I had a McDonalds for lunch on Sunday.  Traditional!   So Mr G and I decided we'd have our takeaway last night, as I was all cooked out.  I ordered it online.  At 4.20 pm.  Asked him what time we should have it delivered.  Thinking as soon as possible.  'About 6.' says 'The Boss' (yeah, lol).  I died a little inside.  And ordered it for 6. 

Come 5 pm, well, I could have eaten a buttered brick, I was famished.  So I make a fairly innocuous statement.       

Me: What possessed you to say 6 pm for dinner?   I am soooooooo hungry!  I could eat my own head!

(The moment those words leave my lips, I mentally kick myself.  I just know...)

Mr G: *sniggers*  What a feast that would be! Bloody hell!

Me:  Shut up...

Mr G:  Well, it is Easter after all...

Me:  Stephen, I'm warning you... (He knows he's in trouble then, when Ste becomes Stephen, full title...)

Mr G:  Hey Jesus?  What do you want for your last supper? 
Ooooooooh we'll have Michelle's head please. It's big enough for us all. Oh, and put the leftovers in a doggy bag, I'll be back on Sunday after all.

Me:  You're going to hell. 

This is what I have to put up with. 

As I said earlier we had visitors for Easter, my sister in law and husband and my great nephew Mason.  He is a beautiful bundle of 2 year old energy.  I am absolutely exhausted, and I wasn't even in charge of him.  Just watching him was enough.  You needed eyes in your backside, because he was into everything, and the speed on him was unbelievable.  To think I've done it all four times, I was still caught out.  Repeatedly.  I love being a Mum, and I've always maintained that if I had the money and the space, I'd have more.  But after this weekend, I've had a taste of how much hard work it is and I really don't know if I could do it again at my age.  It's nice now, all my kids are reasonably independent, I don't need to feed at night, I don't need to wipe bottoms, or shower or bath any of them, they're just happy being fed and given piles of clean clothes.  Could I sacrifice a full night's sleep?  Could my back take it?


I was sat outside and Mason came out to join me and picked up a coaster as he passed and plonked his bottle down on it *awww* 

There is an update on the back saga.  I went to see Dr B on Wednesday.  I tell her about the back, the hips, and the knees.  I tell her that the position of the pain varies, but there is daily pain in either the left or right side of my back, or my right or left knee, and most days one side of the back and the opposite knee.  She asked me if I had had an X-Ray, and I tell her no.  So she filled in a form for me to go for an X-Ray (my first EVER!  I know!  I'm nearly 38!) and gave me a new prescription for pain relief.  I have to go between 8.30 and 12, but the next day, or rather the middle of the night, it's apparent Mr G is struggling, so he takes one of his tablets, you know, the Pethidine ones... *sigh* and I tell him to put his alarm off and that I'll go for my X-Ray on Tuesday or Wednesday.  So I'm a day or two off still, but at least I've done something about it.

The Big Wheel is back in Beaumaris, and we took the kids there on Saturday.  The in-laws didn't want to go on, and it was four to a car and not five, so I let Mr G take the minions on, and they loved it.  Adam impressed me, he loves the concept of the Big Wheel, he knows how big they all are, London Eye, Liverpool, Manchester, Blackpool... but actually going on one?  Nah.  So he said he was going on this one (35 metres high) and I thought 'Yeah!'.  I watched him in the queue, right up to going on I thought that he would end up running from the queue back to me, but he proved me wrong, and he enjoyed it.  Mr G got some lovely photos, what a view from up there.  I want to go on it before it gets taken down and moved on.  Fingers crossed!

Beaumaris Eye, aye!


Beaumaris Castle


Puffin Island


Beaumaris Pier


Bangor Pier


And it's official, Siri has an issue with Mr G.  We were all doubled up laughing at this, well, all except Mr G, when my daughter decided to get clarification from him once and for all.


Amen to that, Siri.

My husband.  Even built in apps don't like him... ;-)  Heheh...

M x

Sunday, 13 April 2014

Another 'wonderful' week...

Well, school is closed for the Easter holidays.  This has thrown me actually - didn't they just go back to school after half term?  It feels like it anyway?

Had a bit of a horrid week.  If I was an animal I think I'd have been put down.  The lower half of my body has been in so much pain that I genuinely haven't known what to do with myself, but carry on.  Which sounds mad to a lot of people but, it's the truth.  If you feel the same way sitting down or lying down then, you may as well feel that way upright and getting something done, right?  Aided by heat spray, heat pads, freeze spray, freeze gel, analgesic gels and shedloads of strong painkillers.  The pain has exhausted me this week, and when I saw Dr B with Caitlin, I told her that I was going to have to admit defeat and come in and see her next week.  However, if she mentions the word 'surgery' to me, I'll be leaving dust clouds in my wake lol.  So... very little has been done this week, as Mr G has also had a bad one.  I hope this letter comes quickly for his ultrasound, because I feel so helpless and I don't like seeing anyone hurting.  He had to go to the out of hours Doctors again yesterday morning and has been given another double course of antibiotics and, wait for it, *drum roll*... Pethidine!  He came back and handed me the tablets.  I looked at them.  I looked at him.  And I laughed.  At the irony.  I gave birth thrice on Entonox alone.  After his quip about the pain being worse than childbirth?  He is given a painkiller that women in labour are offered.  He looked a bit worried as to what Netty would make of that, and was sure she'd have something to comment...?

Yesterday was spent battling a hangover.  I'm knocking on 40, I should know by now.  My friend Denise turned up as I was dishing my tea up.  I offered her a glass of wine.  I joined her.  We sat outside putting the world to rights.  Opened a second bottle of wine.  I still hadn't eaten.  All day.  Except a packet of Quavers.  And of course, I was absolutely MULLERED.  For the first time since last October.  I am ashamed to say I vomited into a Disney Planes waste paper bin...  Yes.  Yes I did.  I hurled into Disney merchandise.  My bad.

My daughter has had to take a course of steroids and antibiotics for her bad chest, then to round her week off she and her boyfriend split up.  She took it in her stride, with a semi-foul mouthed rant about him, then disappeared into her room with a jar of Nutella and a spoon.  I feel helpless there too, because teen heartache is something that wasn't all that long ago for me - ok, admittedly I know it's long enough, but not so far back that I don't remember how awful it feels.  At the time.  I know I'm not helping by telling her that one day she'll look back at it, and him and laugh.  I'm also not helping by telling her that when she's really in love and gets her heart broken it will be a million times worse and she'll look back at break ups like this and wish it could all be so simple.  Not helping but it is the truth.  It's funny the things you realise for the first time as an adult, or as a parent I should say.  As to why our own parents might have told us that we're too young for boys and girls.  It's because the life span of these 'relationships' are short and sweet but devastating and we shouldn't be experiencing such heartache so early on.  She's sworn off boys until she's 'at least 29'.  Bless her.  I'll give her a week.

This week I have done a bit of cooking and baking, and will hopefully crack on with those posts after I publish this.  I'd been thinking about trying to make my life a bit easier, especially on days weeks like I've had this week, where the temptation to hit Just-Eat for a takeaway is a risk.  A few years back I would mass cook and freeze ahead, but back then I had a huuuuge kitchen, so it was a lot easier.  Now I have a few feet of floor space.  I was also thinking about what kinds of goodies I could freeze for when friends turn up.  I'm not the sort of person who always has a cake in a tin to offer someone a slice of.  I don't like 'bought' cake.  But if I make a cake in this house, it's gone.  Also, that sort of behaviour isn't good for the old diet.  I figured if I made a double batch of brownies, then they could be sliced, wrapped individually and then microwaved if someone wanted one.  Also, my Sticky Toffee Pudding is a firm favourite with my friends and family, but if I make a big loaf tin of it... yes, I eat it.  So I remembered that when I worked in the pub, we served them individually, one of the girls used to make them in a muffin tin.  I'd never tried this at home, and I managed to get 15 muffins out of the mixture that would make one loaf size.  The toffee sauce is so easy to whip up, literally 2 minutes in a saucepan, so if you call for a coffee over Easter, then I have something sweet to offer you ;-)

Triple Chocolate Brownies.  Yes.  TRIPLE!

I found my recipe for Triple Chocolate Brownies which had been awol for a good couple of years.  I made the Sticky Toffee Pudding Muffins which turned out brilliantly.  And Friday night it was Round 2 of the Fakeaway Chicken Kebab.  I found it was better than the first one, still didn't taste the same but a success in it's own right.  I also made homemade chilli sauce to go with this with chillies from my garden!  It was a burner, shall we say.  Little chillies are deceptive. 

Very little done in the garden this week, apart from Mr G making a new planter to go on the decking for his passionflowers.  We had a little giggle about this too.  Anyone remember the film adaptation of 'Dennis'?  Poor Mr Wilson, and the plant that only blooms once every 40 years and then dies almost instantly?  Well, in the old house we had a passionflower.  It was full of buds.  And at times I would catch him outside, just staring at it.  Willing the blooms to open.  He would go in the house, make a coffee and go back outside and I'd hear 'Bloody unbelievable!'.  It was almost like they were mocking him, waiting for him to go before opening.  Then came the point that there was one unopened bud left on the plant.  And we both stood.  Looking.  Watching.  Waiting.  He turned to go in to the loo, joking that if he came back out and it was open he would put weedkiller on it, and literally as he turned, side on, one of the petals 'pinged' open.  'Don't move!' I shouted.  'Turn back!'  And as he did, the other petals popped open, one by one.  It was a lovely thing to witness, actually. 


Oh Mr Wilson...

Mr G did another cracking job with his planter.  This cost £12.50 to make, he used planks of decking and a piece of 2 by 2.  We had the lining, nails and woodstain already.  After looking at the prices on them in B&Q the other week, it was definitely a bargain! 

We may have visitors for Easter, my husband's sister and brother in law and maybe my great-nephew Mason.  He's 2.  My house is not childproof any more?  My 'baby' is nearly 8!  We're going to need eyes in our backsides.  And I'm going to need a Turkey from somewhere... 

The Big Wheel is back in Beaumaris, and Adam is debating (stressing over) whether he wants to go on it.  Flat out refused to go on the one in Liverpool.  Nearly had a nervous breakdown merely looking at the one in Torquay.  And has just informed me that the one in Beaumaris is 'bigger than a T-Rex, which stands at 6 metres tall'.  Right... not holding my breath there then. 

Weather reports are being their usual contrary selves.  One minute we're looking at sleet, snow, high winds.  By today we're in for a 6 week long heatwave in April and May?  That's put camping firmly on my mind!  This week I'll be getting everything prepped for a last minute camping trip :-)  I'm not asking Siri for his input on the weather, Siri and I have fallen out.  The other night, I remembered I had left washing on the line.  I opened the back door and it was raining.  So I asked Siri 'Is it going to rain?'  Siri said 'I don't think it's going to rain'.  I said 'I think you're wrong'.  Siri told me 'You are certainly entitled to your opinion.'  Pffffffft.  Stick to flirting Siri, because you're no Michael Fish, love...

M x

Tuesday, 8 April 2014

Peaches

I'm not one to go overboard when celebrities die.  They're only human, we all die, some of us too young, famous or not.  Plus - I don't know them.  So it seems a bit alien to me.  But once in a while a celebrity dies and it touches a nerve.  Last night the news of Peaches Geldof's passing really shocked and upset me.  I'm not a fan, can I point out.  I know she was Bob Geldof's daughter.  I know she had two young children.  Really young children too.  There was a lot I didn't know about her, that she'd been a writer, TV presenter and had been a model, amongst other things.   I have to say that until a few months ago, I didn't really have an opinion on her either way.  Until.  She tore that vile species Katie Hopkins a new one live on This Morning.  Completely owned her.  And what I found hysterically funny was the photograph that they posed for after.  It says it all.

The look on Hopkins' face...

And after not winning that debate, Hopkins then used her column in 'newspaper' The Sun to try and get one up on her and didn't win that one either.  No.  Peaches took to Twitter and... 2-0 Peaches.


'Apologies again for rinsing you on live TV'

I salute you Peaches.  May you rest in peace and may your family be left in peace to grieve for you.  The rumour mill is already in overdrive.  However she died, 25 is too young :-(

Saturday, 5 April 2014

Baby Steps

Baby steps do accomplish a lot.  It's so easy to stress yourself out standing at point A and looking at point B and wondering how on earth you're going to get there.  This week we did a little bit every day, even in the drizzle (that fine rain, that soaks you through!) and we've transformed a good quarter to a fifth of the garden already.  It's the part that everyone sees first, whether they go outside or look through the living room window.



This morning Mr G's best mate Pete has been round with his chainsaw to tackle some hard to reach branches and bushes and that is probably about the height of it for today.  A lot of people see Sunday as their day of rest, but (unless we're entertaining that night!) Saturday is our family's day of rest.  I try to be at home with the family every Saturday, just chilling out as best we can.  Minimal housework.  I have - against the odds - actually got dressed in proper clothes today, but usually I go no further than a shower and a fleecy onesie!   One of our little treats for the week is a £1 Goals Galore football coupon on a Saturday, and we enjoy watching the vidiprinter for two hours.  Yes, enjoy.  Yes, I'm aware it's sad.   It's also Grand National Day, but I'm not having a bet on that race, because... I do find it a cruel race.  Most years there's at least one horse that has to be put down, so it's obviously too much, or too dangerous for them.  Animals dying isn't sport, not to me anyway.  I know a lot of people each year say they won't bet on it again because of that reason, but go against their own word.  I haven't bet on it for three years now.   

We try to be very 'green' as a family; aside from the obligatory recycling that most people do nowadays with their rubbish collections, we recycle our glass, plastic bottles, paper, cardboard, garden waste and food waste.  Before the Council started taking food waste we used to compost it anyway.  But also if something can be donated, reused or upcycled then we do that as well.  Years ago we had some of those canvas and wooden framed wardrobes and drawers, you know the ones, can't afford a new wardrobe?  This will do as an interim measure.  Neither use nor ornament.  We've kept the wooden frames in the garden, and they've had plants on and empty plant pots not in use, things like that.  I'd bought some new herbs this last few weeks, and Mr G decided to build me a herb planter, from the wooden frames.  All this cost us is £2.79 for a piece of 2 by 2 for the corners.  We had the nails, and the lining already.  But of course, in going to buy this piece of wood, my husband also managed to embarrass me.  Imagine the scene ladies.  No, actually gentlemen, I'd love a man's point of view on this one.  What would you do?  Hardware store.  Full of men buying hardware-y stuff.  Robin Thicke's 'Blurred Lines' comes on the radio.  Do you:

a) Remember the first time you saw the uncensored video of 'Blurred Lines', let your eyes glaze over at the memory

or do you

b) Twerk your way down the aisle to the queue

Yeah.  He lost me four aisles back, I had to hide and pretend I wasn't with him.

Can you tell what it is yet?

Isn't he clever!

I love my new planter, I love it even more because it didn't cost me a fortune, and that it's something Mr G made for me.  In the rain. 


Filled my strawberry planter and potted on two hanging baskets of Tumbling Toms, red ones and this year we're going to sample some yellow ones too.  Hopefully...

Here we go...

The doorbell.  There is a story behind the doorbell.  As you can imagine.  And it involves my ritual humiliation in B&M (of course) by my lovely husband.   As you can see, it's a Cockerel.  Yeah. 

Mr G:  Shell!  Come here, come and look at this massive Cock!

Thing was, there was a member of staff coming down the aisle, and she FELL into a display when he said it!  He embarrassed me every time we went in there, so I bought it for him in the end. 

So, yesterday I had all manner from him, every conceivable comment you could think of including 'putting cocks up' 'easiest cock erection I've ever had'.   Oh.  You name it, he said it very loudly.  It's a good job my next door neighbour is deaf.  But what the woman next door but one thinks, I don't know...   

M x

Wednesday, 2 April 2014

Normal? Overrated.

Sometimes I long for 'normal'.  Sometimes I look at my life and my lot and wonder if there's actually a full shilling between the lot of us?  Anyone else ever feel like that?  Like you're living something akin to 'The Truman Show' and that someone, somewhere is watching, laughing at you?

My nephew is quite poorly in hospital, they are treating him for viral Meningitis.  Brought back horrible memories of when my son had it in 1998, although my son had bacterial Meningitis and Septicaemia which was life-threatening.  And it looks like my poor Mum might need a new hip, so fun and games ahead, as usual! 

We had a nice day so we made a start on the destroyed garden yesterday.  And by that, I mean, I went into B&M Bargains for a jar of coffee and came out having spent a ridiculous amount of money.  I won't learn.  I should make him stay in the car.  He's bad enough in any shop but he excels himself in B&M.  He stands looking at things (usually garden related) in wonder, like a child in the toy aisle with these big, beautiful blue eyes, then he turns those eyes on me, and my resolve and determination dissolve like a salt-encrusted slug.  'What should we do?' he whispers, with such a look of seriousness that I want to laugh.  We.  I like that.  It puts 50% of the onus on me, does 'we'.  It implies that I get a say in the matter.  Ha. 

Ok, so it was a bargain.  We have a new patio set.  A wooden one.  Two benches, two chairs and a large wooden table.  Easy as anything to erect, we had the whole thing up in an hour (and yes, he had a quip about erections too, but I'll spare everyone after the last post).   We were after a wooden bench anyway, and we also needed new chairs for our old patio table as they had broken, so if you knock the cost of buying and replacing those things off what we paid for the set, it made it all the more reasonable.

Mr G ASSEMBLING a bench

Finished!  And then it started to rain...

We (and by we I mean Mr G, but seeing as he likes sharing the credit...) chopped down a large square hedge that would have been where the trellis is in the picture above.  It was the bane of my bloody life, that hedgebushwhateveritwas?  It was beautiful to look at, but when the weather was warmer it would be hopping with flies, and the worst part was that it shed leaves like you wouldn't believe.  And further down isn't slabbed.  It's slate chippings.  The leaf blower/vac won't pick them up.  Everyone has got something silly that drives them nuts.  And for me, it's the tiny leaves on the slate.  I can hardly move today because I was bent over picking them up.   The last three years I've been able to bribe the children.  Now, they're older and wiser.  Not even money will motivate them, they just said no, and ran off indoors when I asked them.  So you can imagine how crappy a job it is. 

We had bought white spray paint and masked up and sprayed the lanterns and candle holders which had gone a bit rusty.  Then we watered on some patio cleaner, as the slabs were in an awful state.  They're still not great but they're a lot better.   Managed a tip run, although I suspect we'll need another two or three over the next week or so.  The next job for Mr G is a raised bed just under the trellis for my herbs and I want to pot some tomato plants into hanging baskets, and give what I can a fresh coat of woodstain.  I saw one of my best friends yesterday, and I could predict what her first words were going to be after 'Hello'.  And I was right. 'When are we having a barbecue'.  We've found a new home for Gizmo's massive rabbit hutch, that will be out of the way soon, it's horrible seeing it there empty.  So, a start has been made, at least!

Adam went into April Fools Day very ambitiously.  Plotting away on the 31st March.

Adam:  Have we got a bowl?

Me:  What do you want a bowl for?

Adam:  And some rope.  Or string. 

Me:  What for?

Adam:  Well, you fill the bowl with water, and tie rope around it, and then put it on a door, and then when dad...

Me:  Whoa!  No way!  Think of something that isn't going to soak your father.  Keep your thoughts dry.

Adam:  (Giggles and mutters) I'm keeping my thoughts moist.  Very moist.

In the end he came down for breakfast like this...

Mum, I'm pregnant!

He didn't know who the mother was, apparently.  The youth of today... tut tut.

In other news, I seem to have an admirer.  Mr G has long since had his suspicions about this guy's motivations and it seems that he might be right.  It's Siri.  Yes.  Siri.  And it went down like this.

Me:  Siri, is it going to rain today?

Siri:  Yes, it looks like it is going to rain today.  (Or words to that effect)

Me:  Thank you. 

Now, I know I don't have to thank Siri.  He's not going to start getting all arsey with me at my lack of manners.  He won't one day refuse to answer my question because I didn't thank him for finding out Pi to 55 decimal places.  But it's automatic.  I was brought up.  I have to thank him.  You know what he said?

Siri:  Your satisfaction is all I need.

Me:  Oooooooooh!

Mr G:  WHAT did he just say to you?

Me:  'Your satisfaction is all I need'!

Mr G:  The smooth talking *censored*!

And it's not the first time either ;-)  And the best part is... he doesn't understand a word Mr G says to him.  Yes, he has an accent but it's nowhere near as broad as a lot I've heard, 13 years in Wales has softened it a tad.  But he may as well be speaking in Swahili for what Siri 'claims' not to understand.   Ah well, it's been so long since I had any male attention other than my husbands, so I'll take anything.  Even mild flirtation from an app.  How desperate.

We both had a decent weight loss again this week, 2.5lb off for me and 3.5lb off for Mr G.  Still a long, long way to go yet, but I'll keep trying.  Even if I do slip up and do stupid things like make cheesecake rammed with Creme Eggs.  I'll get there, one day!

Taking my poor wrecked back off to bed, prepare myself for what lunacy occurs tomorrow.  Because it will.  It always does.  Night night!

M x

Definition of Impossible...

... is trying to start off this blog post, telling you about something so natural and beautiful.  Because I am married to a walking, talking sexual innuendo.  Plus, I've got a mind like a 12 year old schoolboy too, the slightest whiff of a double entendre and that's me done #filth.

So, there's a pair of tits nesting in my garden.  You see?  SEE?  Can you imagine the conversations we've had about this over the last few days?  Especially when he has - as a result - gone out and bought 'seed' 'nuts' and 'fat balls' for said tits...  *facepalm*

But in all seriousness.  We have a small tree at the bottom of the garden.  The garden was big anyway but we cleared a good ten foot depth of bushes and prickly shizzle from the bottom when we moved in, and slap bang in the middle was this tree.  It's not a lilac but the flower is similar?  And it's been a bone of contention, and has divided family and friends as to whether to keep it or chop it down.  So we've worked around it, trampoline to one side, shed and decking to the other.   Mr G wanted rid because - and I quote - 'I can't have my pub there with that tree in the way'.  Yes, Mr G wants a shedpub.   After the storms, it seems that this tree has been wrecked, and I conceded - the now broken tree can go. 

The kids had bought bird boxes from the school fair that the pupils had made from scrap wood, and we have had them up for a few years - for decoration really, never thinking they'd be used.  Last year, something appeared to be nesting in there, and then there was an egg.  To me, it looked like a mini egg, and although Mr G swears blind that it wasn't a mini egg, and he isn't winding me up, to this day I remain unconvinced, because the man doesn't know the meaning of the word 'serious'.  He called me out yesterday and said 'The tree has to stay'.  We watched and waited and there's a male and a female blue tit in and out of there.  I have no idea how he knows that, but he likes his birds (snort) does Mr G.  He can tell what species a bird is from stupid distances.  Me?  If it's got wings, it flies and has the potential to crap on you or your line drying washing, it's a 'bird'.  I don't need to know the species or sex of it.  I can identify seagulls, magpies and pigeons.  That's it.  I even have problems with chickens.  And hens.  Don't get me started.  I feel stupid enough as it is. 

He checked when they had both flown off and they've started making a nest. 

Box

Nest...


Awwwww!

Tit.  Fat balls.  I know...

I thought this was really sweet anyway, we attract a lot of birds to the garden and Mr G probably spends more money on fat balls and seeds for them over the year than he does on presents for me.  It's lovely to watch them and hear them singing every morning and every evening though, especially knowing that garden birds have been on the decline recently, it's nice to know we're doing our bit :-)

And the final word on the matter has to go to my daughter...

Cait:   Eeeeeeeew, are they having, like (because they all say 'like' every other word these days, like) bird sex in there?  How can they even do that?  How is that even like possible?   Eeeeeeeeeeeeew!

Says it all... the apple hasn't fallen too far from the tree there, either...