Being Me

I just had an idea. OH NO!  NOT ONE OF YOUR * IDEAS*?   Should I go and fetch a sick bag?  Do I need a nurse on hand? No, not like that.  No more toenail cream or frothy blue dental swill for the time being.  I promise. toenail cream and  frothy blue dental swill I forgot to say, I'm bad at promises. No, I've been thinking.  Where do you go when you want to sell weird stuff?  E-bay is just old hat.  Everyone goes there.  What about .... 1. eek-bay - For sale - collection of scary pictures of lady-who-should-not-have-worn-bikini in a bikini in 1988.  Bikini too small.  Person too large.  Free of charge, or nearest offer (ie I pay you).  Bikini (stretched) also for sale. 'Mother, mother, wake up!  Dad's bought icecreams.' 2. eat-bay - Free to anyone who will collect.  Three shelves-worth of fridge leftovers, ranging from blue cheese (only recently blue), a whole chicken (was dead but has started moving again) and a dirty-sock-only-we-think-it-us

Why do we pay so much money to people to whom we donate parts of ourselves?  Shouldn't they be paying us? 1. I left a good pile of hair of varied hues at the hairdressers which I know for sure she used to knit a grey/black sweater for herself, or as spare locks for the unfortunately-balding, or to apply to her cat after it had been shaved for an operation just to save it from getting called 'Crop Circle' by the other cats in the street.  I even watched her assistant sweep all my hair up into a corner ready to bag up when I'd left for one of these purposes.  Did she thank me and offer to pay me, considering I was walking out of her shop with less hair and colder ears than I came in with and she was much the better off?  No.  She wanted twenty-five pounds.  That's blind robbery, that is. 'Hm.  She won't notice if I take a couple of extra inches.  Anyway, she's British. She'll just say, 'Oh yes, it looks lovely, thanks so much' and hand o

I love poetry, don't you?  Everyone needs a little rhyme sometime, as the old,old saying from long ago, which I just made up, goes. In fact, even old fairy tales could do with a little rhyme sometime .... Who knows in what direction a little rhyme here and there could take ... say ...  the story of Goldilocks and the Three ... now, what was it ....? Goldilocks and the Three .... Stairs? The pooch gets its own sofa staircase?  You are kidding me. No wonder the dog has a look on his face that says, 'Yeah, yeah, so I have a couple of morons as owners, but who's complaining?  You should see the travellator they've installed between my dog bed and my food bowl.' You know, that picture has upset me so much, I'm not continuing with Goldilocks and the Three Stairs.  Stuff that for a game of soldiers.  Finding out that there are people in the world who compromise their living room decor to that extent all for the sake of a dog with a stupid grin ha

So, you're pregnant, and having a baby shower, eh?  And what are you going to be left with when everyone's brought their presents and drunk your wine and eaten your chocolate cake and gone home?  Eh?  Eh?  Here's what - and then I'll tell you what you SHOULD be asking people to bring. 1. You'll get romper suits for babies aged 1-3 months, despite the fact that your bump is so big that it gets to destinations fifteen minutes before you do and contains a gargantuan infant whom you'll have to put straight into your old school uniform until you can get to the shops. Oh!  I've given birth to a giant rubber ball!  Well, that explains a LOT! (Another word of caution on romper suits:  They will also mostly be that shade of could-be-a-girl-could-be-a-boy yellow that suits no one, causes your baby's complexion to look jaundiced, and makes everyone who looks through your photo album say, 'You know, I think I prefer all the black and white ones.')

(Oh dear.  I have lost a follower since writing yesterday's post .  I need to write a carefully-worded and sincere apology.) Dear Woman with Unnecessary Umbrella Please forgive me. If I'd known you were one of my followers, of course I wouldn't have written about you.  In future, any time you want to walk around with your umbrella up when it's dry, looking like a prize banana, please, of course, go ahead.  It's totally your prerogative, should you want to make yourself the laughing stock of Warwickshire, to do so.  It really isn't up to others to comment on the fact that keeping your umbrella up when it's not raining is the most ridiculous, bizarre behaviour; I accept that, I really do, and wouldn't dream of judging you for it. Yours most sincerely, The Woman Who Told You it Wasn't Raining To Try and Stop You Making a Damn Fool of Yourself (Phew.  Glad that's done.  She'll be back tomorrow, I'm sure.)

I was walking down the street.  (Hey up, I hear you say.   You  can't walk down your own hallway  without triggering some kind of national emergency.  Go on, what did you do?  Cause a riot?  Fall down a drain?  Start a fire?) Gimme a break, guys.  All I did was ask a woman with her umbrella up whether she realised it had stopped raining ten minutes ago. Oh. My. Giddy.  Aunt.  Over-sensitive or WHAT? I don't know. You go out for a walk to the shops.  All you want is a packet of biscuits and a bag of sugar.  You see a fellow mortal, obviously in need of a bit of help, so even though you're in a hurry, you stop to give a hand.  Often it's someone selling a magazine to get themselves a bed for the night. You buy the magazine even though you won't read it, just to help her out.  Or it's a guy playing old Beatles songs on a guitar only it doesn't sound like the Beatles: it sounds like three strangled cats and a vacuum cleaner.  So what?  You give him a few p

Friends, I give you Manic Morning Mathematics .... Getting dressed in the morning + not putting the light on so as not to wake Husband =   not noticing the greasy splodges on your shirt that didn't come out in the wash following a badly-executed egg frying session. Having greasy splodges on your shirt from badly-executed egg frying session + passing the mirror in the hall just before you walk out of the front door already rushing for bus = beginnings of panic. Running upstairs to change greasy-splodge shirt for new one + being in a hurry + finding out as you run upstairs about the dragging hem on your trousers = full establishment of panic (+ missed early bus) Trying to put new shirt and trousers on + attempting not to make any noise and wake husband + creaky wardrobe doors + particularly clangy clothes-hangers = realisation that if someone were filming this ... move over Laurel and Hardy, you have a new rival. Running down the road for the next bus + suddenly noticing th

Today, I'm going to try and tell a story in pictures by using Gogle  oops I mean Google Images.  (Hope that typo thing doesn't keep happening when I'm searching for my pictures in Google.  It could really ruin the story.) The story of Cinderella Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young woman called Cinderella who lived with her two ugly sisters.  However, it was not a happy household because they treated her as a servant.  Her main job was cleaning out the hearth.  Here is a picture of the hearth she had to clean, taken from Google. As I was saying, Cinderella had to clean out the heart every single evening.  This meant sweeping out all the arteries of cholesterol and leaving it totally clean, ready for the next day.  (Her two sisters, both heartless, shared the use of it.)   After cleaning the heart, she had to make the evening meal.  Here is a picture of the meal she made one particular day.                                         

Every single bus driver had taken one look at them and then sailed past their stop.   It was going to be a long walk home. 1. The very drunk person is not hot on bus etiquette and won't understand that you don't want to be slept on, burped on or have his beer breath rearranging your hairstyle in a weird subversion of the 'you're worth it' adverts.  There's no point protesting.  He can't properly hear you, see you, or understand you.  The words, 'Do you mind?' he will hear as 'Are you mine?' or 'Have one of mine' or 'I feel undermined' and these could lead to either an acceptance of your proposal of marriage, a confusion about where the cigarette is that you were offering, or the strangest therapy session you have ever undergone.  All could result in unwanted complications.  It's best to pretend you are a bed.  This is what he thinks you are.  Join in. 2. A very bad combination is this: 1) an extremely drunk pe

So, I was wandering down the road last week, and a woman rushed up to me, put her hand on my arm and said, 'Have you seen a white rabbit running around?' No lie, people.  I, and the world of Alice in Wonderland, had just collided, and I was in my own version of a surreal fantasy experience, the like of which I could never have imagined, especially as my name is Fran and I live in the West Midlands in England and don't know the location of the nearest rabbit hole. What ripping fun!  Time to play! So, what to do next?  The woman still has  her hand on my arm - (Note:  I  have switched into  am switching into present tense to increase the tension in my story) - and is urging me with panicked eyes to bring her news of the White Rabbit.  She and I are locked into this world of vividness and colour and creativity together.  She gazes at me imploringly - she wants me to make up the next bit of the tale, obviously. Oh.  My.  Word.  I. Am. So. Excited. 'No, I haven'