Being Me

Many of us look like this in bed (bless our cotton socks). The mouth hanging open. The complete oblivion to the fact that the mouth is open. And, perhaps, the string of dribble ... But, it's not exactly a PUBLIC face, is it? Nevertheless, after two long train journeys in the last week I've realised that sleeping with one's mouth hanging open is only one of the things we're prepared to do on public transport that we probably wouldn't do elsewhere. I always get on the train determined not to sleep, especially if I'm travelling alone. But after three hours on a hot train, eyes too tired to read, and hundreds of miles of the field-field-field-field-field-one-bored-sheep variety, my eyelids droop. Half an hour later, I'm jolted awake, hoping I didn't snore like a drain, have my mouth hanging open like a dead fish, or drool. I also hope I haven't talked in my sleep about ginger biscuits, something I was once accused of doing when I stayed wi...

Yesterday, a woman on the train who had no teeth was noshing her way through a whole Scotch egg as if it were an apple. (For the uninitiated, a Scotch egg is a hard-boiled egg wrapped in sausage meat and breadcrumbs and fried.) If you'd given me the choice between watching her eat a Scotch egg and not watching her eat a Scotch egg, I'd have plumped for the latter. But she was directly opposite me, and I admired both her skill and her total lack of self-consciousness. I didn't take a photo (one can get thrown off trains) but to help you imagine, here's a picture of a woman with no teeth. And here's a picture of a Scotch egg. This egg is a world-record beater for the largest Scotch egg made in a restaurant. The one she ate wasn't quite that impressive, but, to her, it may well have seemed that way. There are other tasks that could be compared with a woman with no teeth eating a whole Scotch egg. a) Someone eating a whole joint of roast beef...

One of my favourite parts of a self-catering holiday is writing in the guest book, and seeing what everyone else has written. Once we stayed in a house where it was clear there was a competition going on, a bit like this...... Mr & Mrs Williams, Devon.  'We saw the squirrels and the rabbits twice in the garden.  Lovely weather, despite a little rain.  Fish & chip shop really recommended.' Mr & Mrs Smith, and Daniella, Yorkshire.  'We saw the squirrels and the rabbits twice, and also spotted a fox.  Not a spot of rain all week.  Loved the pizza restaurant - real Italian food.' Pete and Sandy Brown, Essex.  'We saw squirrels, rabbits, a fox and a badger.  Weather incredible. Could have been in Alicante.  And we really recommend the French restaurant, the escargots in garlic and parsley butter especially.  Bon appetit!' The Baker family, Cardiff.  'We saw squirrels, rabbits, a fox, a badger, a herd of wildebeest, ...

Here are some random, trivial and pointless observations from last week's holiday in Tenby, Wales, accompanied by some pictures.  Anyone expecting sea views, fields and cute farm animals hasn't been visiting this blog for very long. Spot the two words which do NOT belong together in the same phrase.  Who are they kidding?  I saw this in the window of a church.  I swear we live in a post-Spelling society. (Not really.  It was a sign in the window of a shoe-menders.) I was confused at first, because my hands are a kind of fleshy pink colour and I wasn't sure how I was meant to dry them if the towels were only for the blue of hand. I was fascinated to find on an old list of stalls from 1892 at a Tenby market that 'beeves' was used as a plural for 'cow' just as 'calves' was used as a plural for 'calf'.  I felt unnerved that this fascinated me, but couldn't deny that it did. Look what it says in brac...

We went to Worcester today.  My husband got bored wandering around the cathedral and fell asleep. So emBARRassing! Then we went into the crypt where there was an exhibition of ancient manuscripts.  I found this early copy of a letter (below) from a young monk who used to be employed many centuries ago.  It says, 'Dear Mum.  I'm having quite a nice time, but it is cold in this basement, and as they are making us wear dresses, and there's quite a breeze when you're walking across the cathedral green, I am glad you packed my thick woollen pants.  I know I complained at the time and said they were well old-fashioned, but you were right.  They have given me a very strange pen to write out the Gospels with, and I wonder if you could send me a packet of Biros instead. Finally, if you fancy visiting, that would be great, but we have a vow of silence, and I can't promise a two-sided conversation.  What's new, hey, Ma?  (Only joking.  I miss yo...

I am on holiday in Malvern, Worcestershire.  Come along with me to see the sights.  Be warned, though.  I can't promise that any of them are in the 'Things you Must See' official brochures.  But who wants to see pictures of abbeys and ancient wells when you can see pictures of kitchenware and monster lamps instead? The Holiday Cottage wins the 'Tidiest Kitchen Drawers in the World' Award 2013 And the 'Most Symmetrically Organised Kitchen Cupboards in the World' Award, too. SUCH a shame to have to spoil the arrangement in order to pour wine, but SOMEone has to do it. On a different note, there's a Monster Lamp which hangs, like a threat, in the middle of the living room.  It is seriously scary.  Stephen King should write about it. Here it is again, shown in proportion next to a human hand, which it was just about to eat, before my husband whipped it away and denied the Monster Lamp its evil desire. But even Mo...

As Julie Andrews famously sang in 'The Sound of Music' ...  "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens Bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens Really long bus rides with a 'stop' bell that pings These are a few of my favourite things." I agree with Julie.  There's nothing better than a long bus ride and if I don't have one at least once a week, I get a tremor. I've written before about my favourite Warwickshire bus, the G1.  One of the local G1 buses has a STOPPING sign at the front that lights up when you press the bell, but on which the STOP bit of the word has broken, so that the only bit which lights up says PING! .   I think that's just brilliant, and if they ever mend it, I'm going to write to the Chief of Buses and say Why Are You Ruining My Life?  I may even send them a poem. My best thing Is that broken ping. I'd do anything to see it back agin. It makes me want to dance. It makes me want to sing. I th...

Three important lessons learned from a weekend in the Cotswolds. Lesson 1.  Don't ever say to your horticulturally-minded husband in a botanical garden, 'Hey, look, that lily plant is broken.'  The chances are, despite what he KNOWS about how lily pollen can stain, he will more or less climb INTO the bush to help out the stricken stems. Fran's husband was regretting only bringing one sweater for the weekend away. Lesson 2 . A book soaked in beer is not as pleasant to read as a book not soaked in beer. I'm reading 'The Help' by Kathryn Stockett for the second time in preparation for teaching it to A level English Lit students in September.  I recommend you read it, although preferably a beer-free version. We were in a lovely Cotswold pub and my husband went off to fetch some drinks.  I got my book out to read it. Then, when he came back, one of us - I won't say who because it'll only embarrass him - oops, too late! - knocked over his gl...

So, it's Leonhard Euler's 306th birthday, is it?  This is what Google is telling me when I go onto its Search page.  He's today's Google Doodle. What I REALLY want to know is, how many people say, 'Oh yes, Euler!  I was only thinking about his amazing work in the fields of mechanics, optics and astronomy just yesterday!   306th?  No, surely he wouldn't be a day over 285!' While we're on useless pieces of information, I thought I'd better tell you about the scaffolding near Tesco which I mentioned in yesterday's dose of triviality   We went to Tenby in Wales at Easter and took my daughter Sarah and her partner John.  By the way, Sarah was on Masterchef last week.  You can catch the episode on iplayer  right here  for a few more days.  She didn't get through to the next round, but she proved she knows what a proper fish chowder is, and how many of us can claim that?  I, for one, can do cod, haddock and the odd prawn, but I'...

We sit and think for a LOOONG time before we book a holiday.  Oh no, no rushing into a decision for us.  We are just SO cautious and hesitant about it.... Today's teatime conversation: 6.45  Husband says, 'Oh, that holiday cottage brochure came through.  It's got the same cottage in Tenby that we went to last Easter.' 6.46  I say, flicking through the brochure, 'Yes, here it is.  Oh, I really enjoyed that.  Didn't you?' 6.47  I say, 'I've found it on the Internet.  It's free Easter week 2013.' 6.47 and 30 seconds  Husband says, 'I'll just go and get the bank card.' 6.48  'Right, then, read me the number.' So, it's all booked, and we're going back a third time to see  the dead mice and other Pembrokeshire attractions  which my most longstanding readers will perhaps remember and newer followers may like to find out about. Our last holiday was in Swanage where we stayed in a B & B and discovered th...

I was given a camera for my 50th birthday, and now I've asked a passing three year old to show me how to use it and upload pictures, I can bore you witless with photos from my summer holidays.  If you're looking for pleasant, well-composed, thoughtful pictures of grazing sheep, stunning mountain views or nostalgic steam trains, I can only recommend that you visit other types of blogs.  Apologies if you came here from a nice blog about patchwork or making chocolate chip cookies, but the tone is a bit different here. Not a Grazing Sheep Picture 1 This is Elijah.  He came with us to our first week's holiday in Derbyshire along with his mum and dad.  Here, he is looking straight at me and thinking, 'Grandma, if you take me to another crappy old cotton mill and expect me to be interested and coo and smile in my buggy while you wheel me in and out of preserved factory workshops, I'm going to wee straight in your eye next time you change my nappy.  I don't ca...

So, the Spring term is over, and I couldn't be more pleased than if George Clooney knocked on my door right now and said, 'Okay, that's it, I have to admit it, you're what I've been waiting for all my life.' 'I know,' said George, scratching his head.  'I'm as puzzled as any of you about why I didn't realise Fran was my ideal woman before!' We're going on holiday tomorrow, revisiting a place we went to two years called Tenby in Pembrokeshire, Wales.  Our last visit spawned a series of Tenby posts which readers who were following me then may remember (and if you're still here, THAT is called stamina).  As I recall, one post involved sardines and rows of dead rats.  Oh yes, the usual quality you have grown to expect was evident back then, too. Here is the post I wrote just before we went two years ago.  I could write you another one but, to be honest, though I'm ashamed to admit it, every single detail in here is goi...

The fact that my daughter sent me a teabag in my Mother's Day card ('I thought I'd buy you a drink, Mum') reminded me of the teabag knickers I made once. My sister press-ganged me a few years ago into going to a 7 Days of Torture Holiday, otherwise called a week at a health spa.  It was in a hotel in Scotland.  Before I tell you about the teabag knickers, here are my main memories from the week. 1. Having a bath in peat will mean that you will be expelling peat from myriad orifices for weeks afterwards and will still have dried mud in your bellybutton a year later. 2. If you will insist on eating a lake of porridge first thing in the morning, in panic that the rest of the day will only involve mung beans, you can expect to feel uncomfortable lying face-down for a massage ten minutes later while someone pummels your back as though tenderising steak. 3. A healthy walk along a loch usually involves involuntary ingestion of four thousand midges. See point 1 about or...

Four questions I posed while holidaying in the Lake District last week. 1. Why do people very keen on walking make it harder for themselves by going to a mountainous area to do so?  Why not walk in East Anglia where it's on the flat?  I don't get it. 'Look, I agree with Fran.  I've got more blisters than a 36 pack of aspirin. Next year it's East Anglia or you're on your own, sunshine.' 2. Is six pieces of Grasmere gingerbread in one day excessive consumption? Fran agreed that making TWO pieces of gingerbread look like ONE  was a great help with the guilt. 3. If you take a bus up to the top of a steep hill, is it duplicitous to pretend to wipe sweat off your brow when people walk past? If only those walking past knew that she'd only just got off the 43 from Grasmere and that the rucksack was crammed with gingerbread. 4. Does 'looking out of the holiday cottage's window at least once per chapter' constitute...

'Hi.  Can I have a ticket to see round William Wordsworth's house, please?  We're staying nearby in Grasmere and I particularly came to the area so I could see his house and garden.' 'Yes, of course.  That will be £7.50.  That includes a guided tour around his house, Dove Cottage, entrance to the Wordsworth museum and also entrance to the Japanese Calligraphy exhibition we are running at the moment.' 'Japanese Calligraphy exhibition?' 'That's right.' 'As part of a Wordsworth tour?' 'Yes.  It's running throughout the summer.' 'That's strange.  I must have missed all the references to Wordsworth's deep interest in Japan when I read his poems and journals.  And, silly me, I forgot that one of the overriding concerns of the Romantic poets was Japanese handwriting in all its forms.  Now I think about it, it's obvious.  When he wrote 'I wandered lonely as a cloud/that floats on high o'er va...

Tomorrow I'm travelling oop North to the Lake District - more specifically, Grasmere - and I'm staying for a week.  For those of you not British, the Lake District is a district of England.  With lakes.  Here's a bit of it. Grasmere Lake. Why are you going there, I hear those of you ask who know VERY WELL what a pagan I am when it comes to Nature, Nice Scenery and Putting One Foot in Front of the Other. I'm going because, in Grasmere, there is a shop selling gingerbread to die for  William Wordsworth's home, a place of deep literary value which I must visit.  So I have persuaded The Husband that it is of the utmost importance that we stay in a holiday apartment ten minutes from the gingerbread shop Dove Cottage, William Wordsworth's home. (Or should I say 'ex' home, as Willie-boy is of course very dead and therefore busy DEcomposing.) The first thing I am going to do when we get there tomorrow is to find out what the opening hours of the ...

Someone play some funereal music.  I am about to grieve for a bus. No buses have died, so technically I'm not grieving for a bus - just for the fact that I don't regularly ride on one any more now that my new job is only ten minutes walk.  In fact, if all the buses I used to ride on WERE dead, I would be happier, because that would mean that no one else was riding on buses either, so there would be no one I would be jealous of.   Or, to put it more grammatically accurately, there would be no one of whom I would be jealous . (Using 'of whom' in a sentence describing jealousy of other riders on buses seems stoopid, so I crossed it out.) It's true, though.  I am missing being on buses in a way I'd imagine missing my right leg (although that would be a GREAT excuse to get back on one!)  The last blog post I wrote about being on a bus was in December, because in January I started my new job.  This bus-less state is a matter of great sorrow to me. It's no...

I ate this flapjack today the size of a garden wall. Here's a picture of a flapjack just in case you're from Uruguay/America/Japan/the Philippines/Scotland/the posh area a few streets away and speak a different language from me. And here's a picture of a garden wall in case ditto. I ate the flapjack on the bus home because I'd had no lunch and so after work, on the way to get the bus, I went into the health food shop (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! ha ha ha flippin' ha!) and just picked up the first thing I could see. There was a very good reason why it was the first thing I could see.  Let me just remind you why that was. In the shop, the assistant asked me if I wanted a bag for it.  'A bag?' I said.  'You have one that will take this?'  'Yeah, sure,' she said.  'We have a few here from the garden wall shop next door - they had spares.'  She held one up to show me.  'See?' she...