More (Un)Romantic Tales

So with it being Valentine Day yesterday and the the fact that I keep hearing the marvellous song Grenade by Bruno Mars I've been thinking about past Valentine Days.



The Valentine Day that springs to mind was in 1986 when I was in my third year at university and had been with the same boyfriend since the first term in the first year. I'll call him.... Twerp... just to make it easier you understand. Well Twerp and I had a lot in common. We both studied history, had older parents, were "entertainers", loved the arts and acting. He had a brilliant mind too - and was probably the best raconteur that I've ever come across. No one delivered a punch line like he did. I've always thought it was tragic he never went into the theatre and chose the safety of the classroom.

He was also nuts. Yep, nuts. It was a relationship full of emotional highs and lows... the stuff I put up with is unbelievable. I would never put up with that now but he was my first love and sometimes us girls don't see sense, particularly the first time round. Hmm... I particularly remember the time he stood me up when we were supposed to be having dinner with my parents. Yeah, I remember that one alright, why the no-good stinking, selfish, inconsiderate.....

Oh excuse me, just got a little distracted there....

Right back to the story. So anyway this particular Valentine Day my girlfriends and I had picked up our post and were seated at a big table in the dining room (we were in halls) and opening our cards. So Mrs T (or Miss D as I was then) opens her card and finds...

A COW

Yes, that's right. On the front of the card was a picture of big, fat cow. Now granted it was accompanied by some witty phrase and everyone thought it was hysterical but inside Miss D was not impressed at all. Now it's true I was already known for my sharp wit but a COW?! No, no, no, no. Mrs T has always been a warm hearted soul and would never say anything spurious about anyone...except a few minor celebrities...maybe the odd politician...the occasional film star... in truth Readers Mrs T is almost an angel....

Anyway, I thinks it fair to say that jokes aside, underneath Mrs T was a tad bit hurt. Yeah, alright Valentine Day is a commercial rip off but if you do decide to participate you gotta do it right eh? Flowers, beautiful cards, chocolates, jewellery....

So anyway about 18 months later the relationship was coming to a close. He'd gone off to do further study and I'd gone off into the big wide world and I came to my senses. It took me a while... but eventually I realised that the best kind of love is an equal love and so I went to see him and call it a day at which point he asked me to marry him and I said "no." A decision I've never regretted.

So the moral of this tale is;

Never, ever, send your girlfriend a picture of a cow. You may live to regret it!

Ps... I am really nice really. Honest.

PPs... It was a Jersey Cow.

Some lovely gifts and an(unromantic) tale

So anyway, there I was last week banging my head on the dining room table trying to figure out what to do with my novel when there's a knock at the door. It's the postman and he has a parcel for me, all way from the USA!

Fortunately, it wasn't a writ. It was a lovely parcel from my friend Marie over at Nourish!

Being the dignified woman I am, I delicately removed the packaging, folded the wrapping paper and stored it away.

Okay, I didn't. I ripped it open whilst screaming "Yippee, yippee a prezzie for Mrs T! Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!"

Yeah - I am that sad. I don't get presents that often. Well not unless you count car parking tickets.

So I ripped open the paper and found this beautiful scarf pictured below which is hand knitted by Marie herself! What can I say but a very big THANK YOU to Marie. It's gorgeous and I shall be wearing it for years!

Now here's where my little story starts. So I've been writing in the dining room because my study is... a little messy. Or what we might colloquially describe in the UK as a "shit tip." When I've got my courage back I'll tidy it up but at the moment I'm taking the easy way out. So later that day, I'm writing away with Marie's other gift, a lovely decorative wall hanging which couldn't have come at a more appropriate time with all my novel dilemmas, and Mr T comes into the dining room and looks over my shoulder and sees the wall hanging.


"She belives she could so...she did."

Very, very slowly and without words Mr T places his forefinger over the first "S" so that the message now reads;

"He believes she could so...she did."     

Now Mrs T has been married to the good Mr T for nearly 20 years and has known him for 25 years. And let me tell you it wasn't the washing up he wanted me to do. Yep, Mrs T knows EXACTLY the way his mind works. (Fortunately, he doesn't have a clue how mine works) and let me tell you readers...

I kept my mouth well and truly shut.

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More (un) romantic tales coming soon.

A Fatally Flawed Mrs T

Question: Am I trying to kill myself?

It's just after 4 am. I have insomnia again and I've been awake for the last hour mulling over the direction my writing is heading. I finally worked it out this week; I'm not going to be the next John Le Carre - I can't write seriously for more than a couple of paragraphs. So I might as well just get on and write the bonkers stuff.

So no Nobel prizes for literature for me. Maybe a turkey?

So anyway, eventually, I decide I might as well get up and write. What's the point in thinking about plots and scenarios? I know where I'm going now, so I might as well write it down since there's no chance of drifting back to sleep.

I grope for my fleecy jacket and make my way onto the landing. Immediately, I notice there's a strange smell in the house...

I raise my hooter to the air...the odour is a cross between waffles and...

burning.

But there's no smoke! And I haven't made any cakes( for about 20 years) what is this strange smell? Has my pussy, Mr Bond, dumped in the sugar bowl?

I wander downstairs and put the kettle on, looking for the source of this peculiar smell...

I have left a giant pan of chilli con carne cooking for at least 10 hours. I...um...forgot about it.

Fortunately, it had a lot of fluid in it. So...I guess it's only burnt to a depth of... an inch?

So, in answer to my question Am I trying to kill myself ? No, not deliberately, but I may yet succeed!

Where have I been?

Yep, I guess you've been wondering where I've been? Yip, so have I. But I tell you what that spaceship was really wacko. I reckon if I replicate some of the interior I could easily make a killing at the next Ideal Homes Exhibition. Cos let's face it some people have more money than sense don't they? I mean who'd want a toaster shaped liked a bidet?

Yeah, alright I was telling untruths again. It's a bad habit. I wasn't captured by aliens. Although, to be honest being fed and watered and not having to do the the housework really appeals. I could put up with prodding and an intelligence test in exchange for a nice room and decent spread once a day.

On second thoughts...I suppose it might be false representation if I pretended I was a typical example of  life on planet earth. I mean, I have two legs and two arms but brain-wise there's not a lot going on upstairs at times. Know what I mean? Still, I guess if aliens took a look at me and thought that they could invade us easily (not knowing we've got some real brainboxes like Stephen Hawking) we should be able to surprise them with our nukes.

Sounds like a script for a Hollywood blockbuster. Maybe I could get the lead role? I can see it now; Earth is about to be attacked so we must convince the aliens that we are a harmless race of morons so President Obama  recruits The Housewife Extrordinaire........

Yeah, so I've been busy. Doing stuff far too tedious to tell you all. I'm still on my diet but failing a bit on the exercise - my excuse is the weather. I look out the window and see the wind and the rain and think to myself Do I want to go walking in this weather?

 Answer: No.

Hmm... I  know I could exercise in the home but it's not so easy at home is it? Not when there's always all the other stuff to do around the house which seems to take priority. Anyway, I'm still losing weight - I'm up to 9lbs which is not as good as I'd hoped but bearing in mind the lack of exercise I can't complain. I've still a few days left so if I can find the time I will up the tempo. (No chance.)

Yep, so things have been kind of busy lately. I know this because when I get busy I start to make even more mistakes than usual. (So that's a lot then obviously.) Take this for example ;

Friday afternoon I pick the boys up for school so we can rush off to tennis. They're approaching the car just as I'm getting back from a quick dash to the nearby store. I open the car, get in and wait.....

Jacob (opening the car door): Umm....Mum?

Mrs T: Yes?

Jacob: Why are you sitting in the passenger seat?

Mrs T looks around her in bewilderment.

Mrs T: Um... ( reality dawning  )...um... I'm driving aren't I?

Jacob: Yes. Unless you want me to have a go?

Mrs T gets out of passenger seat and goes round to the driver's seat.

Mrs T:  I'll pass on that offer Master Jacob.

Mrs T sighs and puts car in gear.

Mrs T:  Right,  let's go! The tennis centre here we come!

Benedict (whispering to Master Jacob):  Do you think we'll get there alive?

Okay, well I think that little story illustrates my current mental state. I have another very busy week and then things should be calming down so expect to hear from me then. Hurrah! ( Or not as the case may be!)

How do you gauge getting old?

So just how do you gauge when you're getting old?

Is it how many wrinkles you've got?

Is it when you get more aches and pains than you get birthday cards?

Is it when you have more dead friends than alive ones?

Is it when the doctor says There's nothing I can do. You'll just have to put up with it ?

Is it when your children ask you where do you keep your will?

Is it when you consider buying a Skoda because it's economical?

Is it when you go out to buy an evening dress and come back with thermal long johns?

Is it when you watch The Antiques Roadshow and realise you are actually older than most of the so called "antiques" on display?

Is it when you request a book at the library and the assistant directs you to the large print section?

Is it when you stop saying You'd never catch me dead wearing that and start saying That looks comfortable ?

No Dear Readers it is none of these. It is the middle of the night. I have insomnia exacerbated by a bad cold. I just switched on the PC to read the news and I have had the defining moment. I read the following headline:

Irish Actor Confirmed for Arnie Remake

Yes, that's right. They are going to make a remake of the Arnold Schwarzenegger film Total Recall.

That's it. I'm officially old.

Bugger.

Teenage Sons, Insomnia and Day 5 of the Weight Loss Challenge.

Huh. I was going great guns with the diet and then on Day 5 I lost no weight. Nothing. Not even a flicker of movement on the Wii scales.

So I did only do 45 mins exercise instead of the 60 minutes BUT I should have lost at least half a stone through the worry of having a teenage son. Seems only fair doesn't it?

Yep, so late afternoon on Thursday Young Sam springs it on me he needs a lift to the local big town for a pub crawl. The journey there and back is the best part of an hour and en route we discuss how he is to get safely home. He proposes to catch the last train back with his mates just after 12pm and then two of them will share a taxi home. I say I will wait up till 12ish in case there is a problem with the train and then I will go to bed. The proviso is he is to ring me if there is a transportation problem as being a light sleeper/insomniac I am most likely to wake up at the sound of the telephone ringing or I'll be awake anyway.

So we get to town. I pull in and wait for him to send me a text that all is well and I can leave.

Note - AT THIS STAGE HIS PHONE IS WORKING.

So while I am waiting my eyes fall upon a crumpled bag of sweets one of the boys has left in one of the compartments. I am mesmerized by its pink and white stripes. I focus on the music playing, on the people in the wine bars, but all the time I am consciously aware of this bag of sweets which seems to have the allure of George Clooney clothed in a jock strap which is a size too small......

Oh God. It's so tempting. Delicious, yummy forbidden sweets are in the bag...What am I do? Just me and a little itsy packet of sweeties. Together. Alone.

I can't resist. Game over.

I reach over and take a peak..... A heavenly aroma ascends my nostrils.... sweet, sugary, forbidden goodies...

Okay, so the strawberry bon bon had passed its best. 3 weeks left in the car being constantly frozen and defrosted in our present weather had kind of affected it but it still tasted pretty darn good. As did those couple of other unidentifiably manky sweets.....

Mmmmmmmmmmm...

Fortunately, Sam's text arrived before I got stuck into one of those reels of sugary chewy laces. It had sort of melted and reformed but we were still going to have a real good conversation....

Anyway, so I get home. I wait up. 12 o'clock comes and goes. I amuse myself by watching Al Murray; (Not for those easily offended!)



And then England winning The Ashes...



There is still no sign of Sam. One o'clock comes and goes. I doze a bit. When I wake up it's 1.50pm. Oh dear, he should be home. What if he's frozen, lying in a ditch somewhere?

I send a text. No reply.

I try not to panic. Sam's a sensible lad. But, nevertheless, I have visions of him in danger. At 2.20 I ring his phone - perhaps he's gone to a nightclub and didn't hear the text.

Again, no reply.

It's 2 .40. I go upstairs and open up my PC. I can look up the early morning trains and find out when he might be back.

Suddenly, I hear a car pull up outside. I look out the window - it's a taxi. He's home. I start to shut down the PC when I hear a gentle tap on the door. Hmm... why doesn't he let himself in?

I go downstairs and let him in. He's sober and happy and has a good time with his friends. He even has a tray of yummy looking chips and onion rings.

"Where's your key?"

"Oh, I forgot it."

"I tried phoning you."

"Oh." (Pulls phone from pocket.) "The battery's dead."

There's noting like being prepared for all eventualities is there? Anyway, there wasn't much else for me to say but;

"GIVE ME YOUR CHIPS!"

 I tell you what they were darn good chips too. Nice and fresh. With tomato sauce. Yummy.

So Sam and I tiptoe upstairs. We stop on the upstairs landing for a moment.

"Listen," I say, tilting my head to one side. A huge roar suddenly erupts. "That's your father snoring. See what I have to put up with."

Sam grins. I put cotton wool in my ears. We go to bed.

So Day Five was a dieting disaster. I worked hard yesterday on Day 6 - weigh in is in about 4 hours. But for the moment it's back to bed and pray for sleep.

Weight Loss Challenge Day 4 and a grumpy Mrs T in London

So the boys and I made it into London yesterday to see The Lion King which turned out to be a fantastic production. My boys were totally mesmerized - which is more than I can say for the young lad next to me who spent the entire time scoffing sweets, drinking fizzy pop and worse - breaking wind constantly after the interval. I tell you, I thought Young Sam's underpants were a deadly weapon but by the time that lad grows into a adult he is going to find it seriously hard to find a girlfriend. Yep, as soon as he goes out on his first date it'll be over cos no woman can take that kind of nasal assault for more than a minute. And as for kid behind me who kept kicking my chair.....

 Hmmm.

And the tourists who kept talking...

Arggggghhhh....

What is it with these people? Why pay a serious amount of money to go for a wondeful experience and then spend the entire time talking, eating and being a general nuisance to everyone around them?  I managed to put up with the kicking of the seat for about 10 mins and was just about to throttle the child when he stopped - hopefully his mother pointed out that what he was doing was rather naughty - although I'm inclined to think he just wore himself out as I would have noticed my boys doing that kind of thing immediately.

We British are a funny lot though. We put up with things that other nationalities just simply wouldn't tolerate. It's that stiff upper lip mentality, particularly amongst the middle classes. Anyway, although there were people sitting closer to the tourists in the end I could stand the chatting no more so I turned around and made that universal gesture....

No, no. Not that universal gesture. The other one - fingers raised to the lips meaning "Be Quiet."

Although (cough, cough) when I was raising my finger I was thinking of the other gesture.......

Anyway, so yesterday I completed day 4 of my weight loss challenge and lost another pound. So that brings my total to 6lbs in 4 days. I'm pretty pleased as yesterday I did no exercise- although any trip to London requires a good deal of walking. And just to keep the heart pumping the boys and I walked up the 193 steps at Convent Garden tube station. Well, the boys walked... I moaned....

Mrs T: Oh My God ..How many more steps? Surely, surely, there can't be any more... 

Master Jacob:  Just another few flights.

Mrs T: Give me water......... I'm dying.......

Master Ben: But this was your idea Mummy.

Mrs T: Never listen to me again!

Master Ben (slyly) : Okay

Mrs T: Oh My God, I'm cramping!  Give me water! Help!

Master Ben: Sorry, I can't hear you.

Mrs T: Just remember it's your birthday tomorrow, Sonny Jim.

Master Ben: Oh...... I don't have any water Mummy. But you can have my fizzy pop and the sweets that I was going to annoy people with at the theatre. Will that do?
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You Know, you just can't win when you have kids. Although I admit - I do try really, really hard.

Evil laugh