Sunday Madness

Ohhhhh I got a tag! Okay, so I practically had to beg for it from Martin. But in the end I got it!

By the way Ladies, have you noticed that whenever you want something badly from your man you always have to beg for it?

Except for sex, of course, which if you want it really, really bad your man is usually drunk and incapable. (Although it might not stop them from trying - which is why I suggest keeping a teddy bear on your bed - as a drunken man can't tell the difference between a bear and a woman so long as it feels warm and hairy.)

That's my excuse for not shaving my legs and I'm sticking to it.

Anyway, what else is there to do when it's raining but a tag? It's Sunday and my whole day - two cricket matches and a tennis tournament has been rained off and I am desperate, and I mean desperate, to avoid the ironing pile which has been making eyes at me all day. I keep hoping Mr T will cave in and iron his own shirts but as yet they are still there on the the sofa where he dumped them yesterday - as opposed to where I like to keep them - in the utility room tucked away behind a locked door and some discreetly placed barbed wire....

So a tag! Hurrah! I'll pass on on the rules etc later but lets get down to business and get silly!

1) If you could be any historical or current character who would you be?

Mr Burns. He's the mean, nasty nuclear power plant owner in The Simpsons. I just love him - he is so cruel and mean and gets away with it. I want to be mean and get away with it too! Although I never do as I am one of those people who has a conscience. (Explains why I'm not a billionaire tycoon I suppose.) Anyway, I want to stop being nice and be mean instead! For example here's how I'd like to change things;

a)  When the charity collector rattles his bin under my nose outside the supermarket I usually say (scraping together all my loose change) "That's all I've got. What a tough job you have - rather you than me!" However, what I'm actually thinking is "I've just spent £120, I've only got 50p left in my purse which I need later for the car park. I wonder if he'll accept a button off my coat or a kick in the shins?"

b) When I see that person parking at the bottom of my drive AGAIN, I make myself a coffee and look forlornly out the window wondering whether it'll cost me yet another £350 to repair their car -which is what it cost me last time someone repeatedly parked there. Also, I wonder whether they ever, ever, even for one tiny moment, wonder if it might be inconvenient for me to reverse down my driveway with their car parked in my way....

What I really, really want to do is reverse my car down the driveway as fast as humanly possible, totally obliterating their car and then completely deny I had anything to do with it. Well either that, or stick a note on their car with some very precise wording.

c) I like Jennifer Aniston but I want to send her hate mail. Self explanatory really.

2) Name an interesting fact about yourself.

Hmm. Difficult - as this blog is full of stuff about me already. Talk about an ego trip -  my life documented for the future embarrassment of my children. Still, the Young Masters won't be able to tell the judge I've lost my mind if they need access to my cash when I'm old - I'll just direct the judge to my blog and say it's vengeance and he'll know what they're after. So an interesting fact? How about- I can make a simple answer in to one big long essay with out even trying? Oh wait a minute you already knew that. I know - something fresh and up to the minute - I have just started competing at tennis! Unfortunately, I am classed as a "veteran" which sort of ruins the effect when I tell people. And, even more unfortunately, most of the other veterans are even older then me.

Life's a pisser sometimes.

3) If you could go back in time and change one thing, what would you change?

Hmm.... I always thought that pink pillar box hat Jackie Kennedy was wearing when the president got shot was really awful. I'd change that.

Hmm...you know... if Jackie had worn one like Princess Beatrice's it might have put the assassin off. History could have been changed forever...

4) What character traits annoy you?

Greed. (Unless it's mine.) Also, people who pick their noses in public. Ugh. Gross. Also, people who pick their noses AND break wind in public. There's a time and a place for such things and it's not near me. I am quintessentially English which means if you pick your nose you do it behind closed doors and if you break wind you blame the dog.

5) Name one thing that you would change in yourself.

Oh blast, I hate self analysis. Gimme a break. Yuck, yuck, yuck. I like being shallow - it's so much more fun as opposed to sitting with your legs crossed in a room of scented candles and wondering whether you've got bi-polar disorder. Let's leave that to the celebs shall we? How about naming one thing I wouldn't change about myself. That's much more positive!

Okay, one thing I wouldn't change about myself is my bottom.

Although...I might get someone else to change it. Preferably a plastic surgeon... but I'll settle for an enthusiast with a syringe.

6) What do you consider your biggest achievement?

Staying alive. I am gobsmacked no one has tried to kill me yet. I'm never going to the US though as I think the FBI are on to me for hacking Arnie's emails....

Right the rules of this tag are:

Rule 1 - No Tag-Backs (You can't tag me back unless you're really desperate - in which I'll do it for a small fee)

Rule 2 - You must tag a further 8 bloggers (Or however many you want to says Mrs T making up her own rules as she goes...)

Rule 3 - You must answer the questions (Or least distract from giving any creditable answers....)

Rule 4 - You must have a link back to the people who tagged you (Excellent. I need some blog love - my bi polar is kicking in...)

So I'm specifically tagging Marie from Nourish cos she needs to do some writing and she makes me laugh - and then anyone else who wants to join in the fun!

To Keep or not to Keep?

Oh no, I've done it again! I opened my big mouth about Cheryl Cole's purple trousers - forgetting I'd actually ordered something purple myself. As it happens, I like the colour purple very much so when I was surfing trusty old Marks and Spencers for something suitably staid (socks, braces that kind of thing) for Mr T for the forthcoming Father's Day I accidentally (cough, cough) clicked on the women's section and came across a purple jumpsuit, ideal ( or so  I thought) for lounging around in on a hot day. (Not that we get many of those in the UK but I like to look on the bright side.)

So yesterday the jumpsuit arrived and I thought it was FAB. Yes, I loved it. It's a lovely colour, a good fit and has a touch of the exotic. Yes, yes, I know it's more suitable for a holiday in the Caribbean but I can dream can't I? Anyway, I can always dip my feet in the kids' old paddling pool in the back garden - there's nothing like a top notch paddling session to keep the spirits up. I must remember to get my rubber duck out - Daffy hasn't had an outing for quite a while. He can play with my jugs and spatulas. Hours of simple fun - beats the hell out of ironing.

Anyway, delighted with my new purchase, I sashayed into the lounge to model it for Mr T thinking I looked the bee's knees. He looks up, face suddenly aghast, and says

"I think you should send that back."

Poor Mrs T is deflated! So I say (pompously)

" I will ask Master Jacob - he has good taste!"

So I go upstairs and call Master Jacob;

"Jacob, what do you think of my new outfit?"

Jacob pops his head round the corner of his room and then comes out looking very serious;

"Is anyone else going to see it?"

"Well I suppose so..."

Now Mrs T is even more deflated. However, at that very moment Master Benedict emerges from his room, takes a good look and shoots off back to his bedroom. Then, as I'm discussing the pros and cons of my jumpsuit with Master Jacob, ( I like it - he can barely control his vomiting) Master Benedict emerges from his room again with a large piece of paper on which he has written;

6/10

Hmm. Poor, poor Mrs T.  She has been cruelly and viciously deflated by the males in her family! What is she to do?  Shall she keep her purple jumpsuit or return it? What say you Readers? Are the male Turleys correct that Mrs T has made a ghastly purchase or should I ignore them and stash it in the back of the wardrobe to wear when no one else is within several miles? Oh the dilemmas, the dilemmas of being a badly dressed Housewife Extraordinaire.....

Ps - I bought Mr T something trendy - they were sold out of paisley ties.

Princess Cheryl's Auction!

Brilliant.

I've just heard that Cheryl Cole is auctioning off her X Factor clothes. I missed out on Princess Beatrice's hat but I feel I'm in with a good chance with Cheryl's purple trousers.

Right, let's see how much change I've got in my purse...

10 pence

That should do it.

Okay, okay...it's for charity. I can hear you saying what a skinflint I am so I'm prepared to be generous and raise the stakes.

15 pence.

That's it; take it or leave it, Cheryl. I'm only prepared to pay so much for a new floor cloth.

Princess Cheryl

ARgggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

If I hear one more thing about Cheryl Cole and the X factor I will not be responsible for my actions. I've given poor Tom Cruise, Ashton Kutcher and Martin Amis some stick here on my blog but Simon Cowell is coming dangerously close to being my arch nemesis of all time if  he doesn't hurry up and spontaneously combust.

Look, there's only one reason Cheryl got kicked off X Factor and I don't think it had anything to do with her accent. It was that stupid outfit she wore to the auditions - purple trousers that were too long,  an orange frilly top, a pale blue belt and hair like she'd just seen Simon Cowell making out with his wallet. I don't mean to be rude to poor Cheryl, who normally dresses quite fetchingly, but frankly, even I look better in my jim jams after a night cleaning up the kid's vomit. So if you get a second chance Cheryl dress like a classy lady and not like something that's been eaten up and regurgitated from Vivien Westwood's discount rail.

I have nothing more to say on this tedious matter except this:

There - that's added a touch of class.

The Price Tag of Life

I am not someone quick to anger. But very occasionally I do get cross, especially when I read quotes from people who pour scorn on being a stay at home mother.Yesterday, I read this article at The Daily Telegraph featuring novelist Joanna Trollope who suggests that stay at home mothers produce callous children. Here's what she says;

"I remember when my daughters were at boarding school and there was a girl at the school, and they were always telling me that she had this wonderful mother who was always at home, making home-made bread and willing to drop everything to play rounders....It was their big tease to me that she was this perfect mother...And recently I met this girl, now grown up, and there was this callousness about her. This idyll she had grown up in had detached her from society...My own belief, having worked absolutely all my life, is that it's healthy to work. It's extremely good for all our senses. So I would think that as a general rule - and I'm a novelist, not a psychotherapist, so I may be entirely wrong - but to be a working woman gives you a sense of balance in a great many areas of human relationships."

I am disappointed in Joanna. For someone who spends her life writing about families and relationships she clearly has some very judgemental opinions about what is the correct way to bring up children. And to suggest that stay at home mothers do not have an understanding about human relationships is, frankly, a preposterous statement.

Why do some people value stay at home mothers so little? As I get older, I am inclined to believe it is because many people view success (in whatever way you look at it) as being defined by how much money you earn. Everything seems to have a price tag these days. Sometimes even love.

Is that a preposterous statement? I don't think so.

Big Mouth, Big Toe

It will not come as a shock to you folks that I am always getting into trouble. Well I've done it again - only this time it doesn't involve my car.
It involves my big toe.

Earlier today, I decided that whilst the boys were in the nets playing cricket and having a little instruction, I would have a bash too. Now, many years ago I used to play cricket (emphasis on the "many") and whilst I've hit a few tennis balls with the kids at cricket when they were younger I haven't done much with a hard ball in about... 25 years.

Probably not a good idea then to stick on pads and a helmet and have a bat. But hey, I wouldn't be me if I wasn't an idiot most of the time!

Yep, so I faced a few balls, struck a few and was beginning to move into "power play" mode (which for those of you not familiar with cricket terminology roughly translates as "swing wildly and hope for the best") when the cricket coach - fast bowler, ex county, club opening bowler  (Am I laying it on thick enough here?) comes charging in. It was a real beauty, swinging into me at about 90mph...at which point I thought...

I shall hit that for six over mid-on!

(Yes, I am delusional. Just bear with me.)

Yes... well... (cough, cough. ) Obviously, I completely missed the darn ball and it hit my big toe.

Hard.

Anyway, I carried on for a while and then when I came off (dignity not intact) I pulled off my trainer and saw this:

And just for once it was nothing to do with putting red pants in with my white wash.

Here's what it looks like a few hours later:

Ohhhh.... look at those little porkie sausages! Terrific war wound though. I am going to get some serious mileage out of this - especially when I tell folks how the ball ricocheted off my foot and knocked me out - resulting in my being airlifted to the local hospital to receive open toe surgery. (Unfortunately they could do nothing about my brain which, unsurprisingly, had already received irreparable damage.)

I love a good story.

Anyway, I now have a public apology to make. Poor Cricket Coach was very apologetic but being in one of my jovial moods, as I normally am, I later texted him and told him my toe had fallen off. I'm not sure he understood my humour... Anyway the fact that big toe hurts is my own stupid fault!

Hmm...I think tomorrow I'll text him and tell him I ate my toe with some beans and a nice Chianti.

I wonder if he'll believe me?

Hee, hee, hee...

Irreverent Chat

Wow! Yesterday, via the news, I came upon this site - a website where readers can vote upon the sexiness of our MPs. Boy, did I have some fun!

Now currently riding high at position no 13 is Joseph Johnson. Here he is;

Well yes, a pleasant looking fellow. Not sure if he's my cup of tea though. Anyway, remember that old saying "Look at the mother before you marry the daughter" - well I think the same applies to men - only perhaps it should be "Look at the older brother before you marry his younger sibling" So let's take a look at Joseph's older brother, Boris. Yes, that IS that mad fruitcake Boris, Lord Mayor of London.

Hmm. Me thinks that if the lovely Joseph hasn't hooked up yet he'd better do it fast because when Boris's Alzheimer's sets in poor Joesph hasn't a hope in hell.

Here's some other interesting points..

The first Liberal Democrat MP doesn't come in until position no 65.  I'm wondering why that is...could it be that folks don't know which side of the fence they're sitting on?

Gordon Brown comes in at position 239. Seriously. No, I couldn't believe it either. There's either a lot of people out there with eyesight problems or us Brits have actually got a sense of humour.

David Cameron is presently coming in at position 164 (the double chin is holding him back) whilst deputy PM and Lib Dem leader is trailing slightly behind in position 174.  No surprise there - although I'm inclined to think there's some dirty play going on as it's an awful picture of Nick Clegg, who everyone knows is a real hit with the ladies.

Glenda Jackson (Yes, the actress, turned politician) is coming in at 619 which is in the bottom few. Now let's face it Glenda's got a real personality so that's pretty shocking. I'm wondering if folks are worried about her taking on too many acting roles? Although, if that's your cup of tea.....hey, it could be interesting...

Anyway, I had some fun looking at our MPs. I think most of them are pretty scary though. It's probably better to have sex with a blow up doll. At least if there's any hot air around it won't be a lot of political gibberish.

Alternatively, if you live in Wales, save yourself the cash and just go for a walk in the countryside.

Ps - I hereby issue a disclaimer. This blog does not belong to the real Jane Turley. Jane Turley is a pseudoynym for Barbara Cartland who may or or may not be dead although rumours have recently be circulating that she is living in the UK wearing a prosthetic nose and posing as a housewife of extraordinary talent.

Ho hum.