Evidence that Fran was taking breaks from eating sweets at some points in 2012

Having polished off all the Jelly Beans I wrote about yesterday, I am now onto the Liquorice Allsorts.  And, to mark this transition, and the New Year, here is an Allsorts blog post - a differently-flavoured selection of snippets from my 2012 blogs. Today, I'll do January to June.  Soon, I'll do the rest of the year.  (This is called a Cliff-hanger, readers.    Don't tell me I never make your alimentary canals tingle with suppressed excitement.)

Fran could only think of one way to stop herself from eating them.  Wearing them.  

January 

Cats are more enthusiastic than English students.  I know this because, when I opened the door this morning to welcome a pupil I teach privately from home, a cat from a neighbouring house took its chance and shot in like a nun out of a swingers' party and up our stairs.  It went so fast, it was just a blur, but I saw the look on its face and that look said, 'I can't wait to get in here and onto the bed of an allergic person.  I'm dead excited.'   Then I looked at the pupil's face.  Let's just say, excitement wasn't the emotion I saw there as she stood on the doorstep in anticipation of our lesson on non-fiction texts.

For the rest of the post, go here

February 

I once made a whole batch of fudge to give people at Christmas.  I put it all in a box and hid it at the back of a wardrobe from the rest of the family, forgetting that, in fact, the only person who was likely to raid it and eat it was me. 

We gave everyone tins of biscuits from Tesco that year.

Tonight, I am not eating fudge, but I have persuaded the husband to open a box of toffee he was given for Christmas (presumably by someone who could Control Themselves).  I have eaten SO much toffee, and I feel bad, because someone could have used that same amount of toffee to stick together our broken world.

For the rest, go here

March 

Here are my Mother's Day thoughts:

1. If you pass on your bizarre and dark sense of humour to your son, you have only yourself to blame when your Mother's Day card is the birthday card you sent him earlier that month, recycled, and with all the irrelevant bits crossed out.

2. For the same reason, your older daughter's version of 'buying you a drink for Mother's Day' may involve her sellotaping a teabag inside your card.

3. Sending your youngest daughter a text saying, 'Happy Mother's Day.  Oops.  No.  That's YOUR line.' is likely to be taken offence at, however funny you thought it was at the time.

For the rest, go here

April

Yikes.  Two days until I'm fifty. 

This will tell you how old I'm getting.  I got excited yesterday because we had carrots rather than broccoli.  It felt like a real event.  And that tells you a LOT about my life.

For the rest, go here

May

Diary of my weekend:

Saturday morning:  Rehearse for evening's gig.  Practise in front of mirror for 3 seconds holding a Sure deodorant as a microphone and trying to make 'I'm relaxed' faces.  Practise without mirror.

Saturday afternoon: Go and see granny in care home.  (My Granny, not just anyone's - I don't just drop in and demand to visit an octogenarian on a whim.)  Accept offer of cup of tea from one of the carers.  Tell her 'just milk, no sugar, please'. Drink tea with fourteen sugars in, trying to keep a normal face, eg one that doesn't look like a cat's anus.

For the rest, go here

June

People at bus stops talk to each other, but only when the bus is late.  You wait in silence, or maybe listening to an ipod or texting someone, until 9.37 when your bus is due.  You don't say a word to anyone at all.  Then, at 9.37 and 45 seconds, with no bus, suddenly everyone starts hugging and kissing and saying, 'It's never normally late' and 'You're right, it's usually so reliable' and then someone else says, 'Ooh, I don't know, it's often late for me' and then you start swapping birth stories.  Then what happens? The bus arrives at just before 9.38 and you all get on and sit on completely different seats, ignoring one another for the rest of the journey.  Why?

For the rest, go here