No, No, No!!! I will not re-use shopping bags!!!

Are you as sick of all this environmentally-friendly stuff as me?

I was in a rush to work this morning trying to get a few items at my local Marks and Spencer store. At the checkout the checkout lady decided to launch into a conversation to coax me into buying a "Bag for Life":

"It'll only cost you 10p and you can bring it back each time you come here and when it wears out we'll replace it free of charge each time".

"Sorry, but I'd rather just have my shopping packed into the lurid, flourescent green plastic bags." (Flourescent green obviously equates to getting on the environmentally friendly bandwagon!). I hastily packed stuff into the aforementioned bags but I glanced up and noticed that she'd given me a most disappoving look. She then proceeded to harangue the old lady behind me: "Are you interested in a Bag For Life?"

"Ooooh, yes dear, I think I'll give it a try". replied the old lady parting with a 10 pence piece.

As I was walking from the checkout, I noticed a paronisingly triumphant smirk on the checkout lady's face.

I really couldn't give a stuff (for want of a ruder word). As far as I am concerned I do my bit for the enviroment by recycling newspapers and glass bottles - anything more than that is hard work!!!

29th June 2007

29th June 2007

I would've been married 14 years today if I had not had the good sense to escape from a marriage of violent instability (and that was the good days!). So, how will I commemorate this maudlin "anniversary of sorts"???

I shall tell you ... by listening to rock music at full volume and getting drunk!!!

Cheers!!!

This photo has no relevance to the post below!!!

This afternoon I had to take my cousin and wait for her at a local beauty parlour.

So there I was looking distinctly unglamorous (as usual) surrounded by adverts for various products that promise eternal youth and probably deliver nothing. The irritating sound of nail-filing (which drives my up the wall like someone's nails raking down a blackboard!) was going on and very over-made up youthful girls were escorting customers around this oasis of beauty on their way to back rooms to have various treatments for extortionate prices.

I was feeling lulled into a sense of sleepiness as I sank into the deep-sprung sofa and watched the projected image of fish swimming in a sea that was on the screen at the back of the room. An older, more wrinkled woman (the owner, I decided) was smiling at me in a sympathetic, patronising manner and I was almost convinced to have a head-to-toe algae body wrap when suddenly something ruined the false sense of open-your-wallet bliss that I was heading into.

It was the pan pipe music coming through the sound system! Now, if there's one style of music I cannot stand it is pan pipes! What's the point of it? It's unpleasant. What was more unpleasant was that I had to sit through Peabo Bryson and Roberta Flack's "Tonight I celebrate My Love For You" on pan pipes!!!!!! It's bad enough without the ruddy pan pipes! Things got worse and my mood deteriorated further when "Saving All My Love for You" by Whitney Houston came on as the next pan pipe tune.

It reminded me of when I was in a Chinese restaurant years ago and Madonna's "Get Into The Groove" was being played in the background on Chinese instruments. It sort of lost something. Same thing for pan pipes. Some genres of music are a definite no-no!

So, thereI was - considering my options:

- Text my cousin's mobile apologising for having to leave suddenly, pretend that my car was on a meter that was about to expire, death by mud pack!

I was mentally writing my will and thinking of all the people I'd miss on this earth when my cousin emerged.

"Thank goodness" I cried and almost hugged her "You've saved me from Whitney Houston on pan pipes!!!" The young assistant escorting my cousin looked at me as if I was mad, the owner of the shop looked at me as if I had verbally assaulted her and my cousin just smiled.

A summer tale

I took this photo on holiday in Sorrento, Italy 2 years ago. A lovely summer evening and calm serenity ensued over the Bay of Naples.

However, I wanted to share with you one memory. There was a woman in our hotel who liked to sunbathe topless round the pool and well, was in need of "depilation" around the center of her bosoms. My cousin who was holidaying with us commented "Oh look at the Bay of Nipples!" - It really put me off the cappuccino I was drinking and it became hard not to feel queasy whenever this lady removed the top of her bikini and sprawled back in her deckchair!

I mean, I have what can be described as an ample figure and I wouldn't want to inflict it on anyone by wearing a bikini so why didn't Queen Kong remove the nipple fur if she was going topless??? Did her husband say "Oh darling, that furriness round your nips is just such a turn-on?" or was he a polite, simpering Englshman who didn't quite know how to broach the subject and was frantically and furtively combing the local phone directory for the numbers of ladies of ill-repute as his married "love life" was inexplicably off the boil???

My Cup of Tea!

Well I've been running around like the proverbial headless chicken trying to utilise every moment of my extremely hectic life and rather neglecting this blog in the process.

So what's been happening this week .... well ... in the world of politics Tony Blair's resigned, in the world of football Thierry Henry has left that sinking ship known as Arsenal for the trophyland known as Barcelona, the famed Wimbledon loser Tim Henman (famed for punching his fist and grimacing when he wins a match point) actually won a match yesterday ... oh yeah, Paris Hilton's released from jail.

And in my small microcosm of life .... nothing much really. So here's my top 10 favourite all time songs - in no particular order - (apologies to Kate Thornton for borrowing her favourite expression when reading out the list of those going through to the next round of the X-Factor)

Live Forever - Oasis -ooooh I like a good guitar riff, I do, I do!!!

California Dreamin' - The Mamas and the Papas - sort of melty and mellow, man

Ain't Nobody - Rufus and Chaka Khan - upbeat cheery 80's stuff

Ordinary World - Duran Duran - their best lyrics from a group not known for great lyrics

Kayleigh - Marillion - the lyrics are poetry, the chorus is a bit crap

Dani California - The Red Hot Chilli Peppers - a great video accompanied this bouncy, rock nonsense so I've gotta stick it on my list

Praise You - Fatboy Slim - a weird choice but again, bouncily optimisticly techno youth tune

Summertime - Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong - an absolute classic, say no more!

Pretty Vacant - Sex Pistols - yes, what a great load of noise from the original punk boys

Prince Charming - Adam and the Ants - purely because I get a warm nostalgic feeling remembering my gran telling me to turn it down when it got to the wailing, repetitive bit at the end!

Edge of Heaven - Wham - the best Wham song ever - so bouncily, cheerily optimistically 80's

I'll Fly For You - Spandau Ballet - a gentle song sang by foghorn Hadley, which always amused my friends when it came to the line "I haven't got a thing" - ah, the silly thoughts of adolescent girls!!!

Wildwood - Paul Weller - the Modfather goes all soft and bluesy

You Know I'm No Good - Amy Winehouse - excellent tune and lyrics from one of today's great talents

Find Maddie

It's been 50 days since poor Madeleine McCan was abducted from her holiday appartment. There's been all sorts of recriminations about whether or not her parents should have left her and her younger siblings alone while they went for a meal. I don't want to get into all that, or the fact that her parents are both doctors and hence have more support at their disposal than working-class parents in a similar unfortunate situation.

I cannot imagine the horror and agony that the McCans feel. I know that when my son, who was 7 at the time, went missing at Parade Time in EuroDisney my heart sank to its lowest depths and the full realisation that I may never see him again hit me in the pit of my stomach. Luckily his stripey t-shirt was spotted by his eagle-eyed grandma who found him, obliviously following the parade, caught up in the colour, noise and excitement of it all.

So I really pray that Madeleine will be found safe and well and returned to her family.

I have placed the Find Maddie poster on my blog as this morning's news mentioned that there may have been "sightings" of her on the island of Malta. Maybe there will be a happy conclusion to all of this.

Update on Skin Product Effectiveness

So as you are aware I have been using the wonder skin cream product for about 2 weeks now.

It's fine and I am also using the eyecream and the moisturiser. (I thought the eyecream was making a bit of a difference but the eyes still look dry and saggy in the corners). But I digress ...

Today at work I was paid the most unexpected compliment. The boss of the place where I work (but not my boss, if that makes sense) said, as she walked past me: "Your face looks thinner!!!" This was bizarre because she'd last seen me only 2 days previously.

I was a bit taken aback. "Oh, it must be the new face cream that I'm using", I said in dubious shock.

"We should all use it then!" She replied. This from a woman who seems proud to have wisps of white facial beard sprawling over her chin.

"Well", I said, "If it's that effective at making the face thin, perhaps I should use it all over my body". She smiled and walked off and I wished I'd kept my big mouth shut. You see, I am not sure if she drinks from the furry cup or not. I make it clear to you at this point, that I do not.

There's something about her that makes me feel uneasy. I assume it's the pride with which she doesn't remove the quite obvious facial beard wisps. When you sit opposite her in meetings you have to sort of remember to look into her eyes and not let your gaze stray down her face towards her chin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh I really need to get another job!

How Not To Smile in Photos

We're coming up to July which means 2 things to wizarding folk:

1. The next movie installment in the Harry Potter franchise
2. The concluding novel to the whole Harry Potter saga.

No doubt Harry Potter enthusiasts are agog with anticipation. There's already been a "spoiler" of the final novel's ending posted on the internet. There's talk of a theme park in the USA based on the books, and all in all the coffers are open and flooding JK Rowling with even more cash than anyone could spend in a lifetime. And so to the point of this post: JK Rowling is one of the wealthiest women on the planet and I say good luck to her. She was an impoverished single-parent at the start of the Harry Potter novels, and does a lot for charity. Yet have you noticed that even with such great wealth generated from Harry Potter, she rarely smiles in photos, and if one does see her in a photo smiling it always looks like a pained, put on smile!

I have to ask myself, as a fellow impoverished single parent, who wishes she could write her way to a fortune, why does JK Rowling always seems so ...well, miserable?

Not being famous, I can't imagine what it must be like to have press camped on your doorstep and unknown people, from all over the world, writing to you and sending you weird items in the mail. I certainly can't imagine what it must be like trying to go the local shops, without any make up on, hoping no paparazzi will spring out and snap a photo. That must be horrible, but when you've got enough money to buy several small islands to hide away on, does it matter that much? Wouldn't you forfeit a bit of freedom for a lot of money??? I certainly would!

So come on JK, give us a smile for goodness sake!!!



Ok - that's kind of better!!!

Secret Spurs Fan!!!

Like a Rabbit Caught in Headlights

I was out and about minding my own business today, going down the local high street.

I ventured into a pharmaceutical store known as "Boots" with 2 very specific items to purchase in mind: an eye cream (as my eyes are looking saggy) and a mascara (to apply to the lashes of the aforementioned saggy eyes). Now "Boots" are very gung-ho at the moment about the fact that some anti-wrinkle cream or other that they invented has been verified by a BBC programme as proven to reduce the effect of wrinkles. "Protect and Perfect" serum has been hailed as the big breakthrough in anti-ageing creams. This has led to stampedes, sell-outs and product-rationing up and down the country on a scale not seen since World War II.

So, there I was totally unprepared for what was about to happen. I merrily and obliviously scanned the shelves of expensive lotions and potions in order to find an eye cream in a reasonable price bracket. Ok, for reasonable use "budget" - i.e. under £5!!!

And then it happened - a very pleasant salesgirl who looked about 16 years old but was probably a bit older approached me. "I'm looking for an eye cream" I volunteered. "Ok, let's see" she replied and pointed me in the direction of "L'Oreal", "Clarins", an extremely expensive French make I've forgotten the name of, "Boots" own make, a herbal and pure brand - the array of products was bewildering.

"There's always this one" she said as she showed me a tube of something for £1.59. Hmmmm, that looked too cheap - surely it couldn't work for that price? We walked round to the front of the shelves.

"Have you tried 'Protect and Perfect'?" She asked. "You must have heard of it? In a month you could have wrinkle-free skin."

"Oh yeah", I replied "wasn't there something about it on tv?". She smiled and went behind the counter and reappeared mischieviously with a box of it in her hand. "We don't keep it on display" she proudly stated. "So many customers have said it works. Only one woman didn't and she was quite spotty and was putting other products with it so of course it didn't work for her. Anyway, your skin's not that 'mature'-looking."

"Oh" I said, starting to feel that I was in the middle of a hard-sell being done extremely skillfully. "May I see it?"

She handed it over victoriously. She knew I would feel a real cheapskate if I refused to pay £16.75 for the wonder-lotion. I feigned interest and inspected the packaging getting mentally bamboozled by words like "pro-retinol A" and "anti-oxidents", etc.

"It might be good as an eye cream too" she said.

"Oh" was all I could manage in reply as I robotically placed the wonder-lotion automatically in my basket, as though under the influence of a magical spell.

I was still thinking about how old you have to be to be classed as having 'mature' skin when she said: "Of course, you can't use it without moisturiser".

"Right", I replied grimly.

"This one's not too expensive" she said and pointed to one.

"Ok", I forced a smile, "I'll take that as well".

"Now what about the eye cream?" she asked.

"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that", I replied and decided that to go for the £1.59 one would definitely look really cheap after forking out for the wonder-lotion and needless moisturiser.

I put one for £5.76 in my basket. Then I found some inner-strength. "Thank you", I said and walked away towards the mascara. I now had to budget for the mascara and get a cheaper one than my usual one.

All in all it was a very expensive shop and I was really cross with myself for being such a sucker. I have never before invested so heavily in skin-care products of dubious promise. You may have guessed that I am totally cynical about the claims of the anti-wrinkle industry and any adverts featuring Jane Fonda or any Hollywood star on the wane and into middle age and beyond!

Anyway, I shall let you know what I make of this wonder-lotion in a wrinkle-free month's time!!!

Trainspotting!!!

So there I was all set for 2 days training with work, relatively comfortably seated in non-first class luxury on the train. The train was the 8.45. We were hurtling through Hertfordshire on our way to Cambridge and fellow passengers were either plugged into their iPods, reading books, newspapers or magazines, feeding whingeing children that ran up and down the aisle or, like me, staring out of the window, trying to ignore all and sundry around them.

And thus it was. I was deep in thought, wondering why the nearer the train got to Cambridge the sillier the names of train stops were: Shepreth, Mordeth, or something else that sounded like sheep rot and conjured up images of country yokels when I saw - the sight! And I gasped in shock, horror and disbelief for I had never encountered such a sight before in my lifetime and fully believed it was an urban myth!

Yes - 'twas a TRAINSPOTTER!!! One of a breed of peculiarly English people who sit near railways and derive insurmountable pleasure from jotting down the details of passing trains. The bizarreness of this is that one doesn't find equivalent people deriving such joy out of meaningless practices on the continent of Europe, as far as I am aware. Imagine Jean-Claude leaves the maison in the morning "Au revoir Marie, I am off to write down le numbers of the passing trains at the Gare Du Nord" "Oh, ok, mon cheri, I have packed a bag of sandwiches for you. Enjoy!" I think not!!!

So there I was nigh gawping in disbelief as the train took a bend and we whizzed alongside a country path. I saw the trainspotter - "No" I almost cried aloud. I felt panic build up inside of me - surely not a man on a bench beside a railway with a pen and paper in his hand???

YES - we drew nearer, it was a trainspotter. "Nooooooooooooo" - I was mentally willing him to relinquish his grip on his pencil and notepad and go and get a life. Hard luck, our train whooshed past him and, with the precision that comes of being an expert in the field, he quickly jotted down something and then replaced the pencil on the pad with great satisfaction, doubtlessly feeling euphoric at the thought of the 9.15.

Oh, England - is there no hope???

The Paris Hilton

Grrrrrr!!! It's really irritating when so-called celebrities think they're above the law. So Paris Hilton gets her sentence halved, gets her own special secluded unit in the prison and probably tons of luxuries denied to regular inmates. Then bizarrely the sheriff let's her out because of a "psychiatric problem" - could it be that she gave him a huge bribe to get released??? Just a thought!

Let's be clear about one thing, if it were John Doe, without squillions in the bank he would've been banged up in jail without a thought for his personal safety or special perks!

So Paris dear, do us a favour and get back inside love and stop squealing like a baby. You've done the crime, now do the (very much reduced) time!!!

RIP DAD - 11 YEARS AGO TODAY!!!

My life would have been so different if he were still alive. He was only just 56 years old when cancer fatally claimed him.

I remember the silly parts of our last ever telephone conversation. The one where I was making plans to come up and see him in hospital but never made it in time. The one where we joked about the tv show "EastEnders" that he hated and the "Star Trek" tv series that he loved. I remember how he once told me that Patrick Stewart was sitting next to him on a plane to Newcastle and Dad was telling him that he was a fan of the show. I am glad that he got to meet Patrick Stewart.

I am sad that my son never really knew his grandpa. If he had known his grandpa he may have turned out .... an Arsenal fan (shudder of horror!!!). So, Dad as a tribute to you, I post the picture below:



(ooh that was painful!!!)

BUT REMEMBER, DAD, THERE'S ONLY ONE REAL NORTH LONDON FOOTBALL CLUB AND THAT IS AND ALWAYS WILL BE SPURS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GOD BLESS YOUR DEAR SOUL, AND REST IN PEACE XXX

10 Things I hate about Dimitar Berbatov

1. He's courting a move to Manchester Utd.

2. He's praised Man Utd players above his own squad - rightly or wrongly, you just don't do that!

3. He's realised that Man Utd weren't going to make a move for him so he's engineering a transfer by praising them!

4. He comes across as being an honourable person but it looks like his honourability will be tested by a Manchester Utd bid for him!

5. He must therefore be 2-faced.

6. Having such attitudes at a club can unsettle a dressing room and the other players.

7. He will break my heart by leaving.

8. He should show some b*lls by staying at least one more season and helping us get into the Champions League that he so craves to play in!

9. He will take an unbearable amount of abuse from our fans if he plays for Utd. (Remember Sol Campbell?)

10. He should want to give his all for Spurs, who have brought him to England and to a greater world stage after being mediocre in a cruddy German league for 5 years.

10 Things I love about Dimitar Berbatov

What do I like about Dimitar Berbatov? Here's 10 things:

1. He was a good buy for Spurs.

2. He's proved to be one of the hottest footballing properties in the English Premier League.

3. He plays with style and gracefulness and knows how to calmly strike the ball into the net.

4. He shows great irritation when players around him don't pass the ball to him.

5. He would never play for Ars*nal (otherwise known as "The Dark Side" of n. london football clubs!)

6. He has the silliest nickname in his native Bulgaria: "The devil with the face of an angel".

7. He has devilish good looks.

8. He learnt English from watching movies, especially gangster films.

9. By doing a top 10 of my favourite things about Dimitar, I get the excuse to post a picture of him.

10. I don't know if he has much personality, but I would share a yoghurt with him any day. (This is not synonymous with anything risque, but was actually a true question someone once asked him - if he ate yoghurt and if it gave him footballing powers!!!)

Big Brother I'm Not Watching You

Well, it's that time of year again in England - when the under 30's turn into tv addicts, tuning into their nightly fix of "Big Brother".

I can't believe this dumbed-down, unintelligent "yoof" progamme is now in its 7th year. The first one was mooted as an interesting "social experiment", but it didn't appeal to me. However it's now become an excuse for the bizarre and insane to parade themselves on tv, locked in a house for 8 weeks and viewable 24/7 on cameras with the guarantee of instant celebrity and millions of pounds on re-entry into the real world. Pardon me for not being interested but I don't really care to watch Jack Nobody trying to fry onions at 3 am!!!

Small-time glossy magazines will no doubt bombard us with pictures of these nobodies and "exclusives" whereby their friend's cat's dog's aunty will reveal all about them - yeah the hangers-on cling to their little bit of fame too!

Now where is that 2 month exit pass from the UK??? Ah ...

Out for a fight

This blog is dull, I am not denying it but I just had to get something off my chest.

I was in my local Marks and Spencer store with my son the other day. We were queuing in the "5 Items Only" queue. In front of us was a large, youngish lady, in a top that was unsuited to her figure and her age. (She was - a chav or charver if you're from the north of England). Behind us was an old lady. I was in queuing-oblivion mode which means that I had mentally tuned out of my surroundings and was thinking about things I had to do during later that week.

The lady in front suddenly turned round and started having a go at my son: "Stop counting my items!" She shouted out. This brought me out of my daydream. "Eh?" "He was counting my items - so what if I've got 7 items!" Quite frankly, I agreed with her, I couldn't care less how many items she had but I did object to her shouting at my boy. So, I turned to him and asked "Were you counting that lady's items?" "No" he replied. "He damn well was!" shouted the lady. "No, he wasn't I replied" feeling like things were degenerating into a playground spat. "You shut your mouth!" she yelled at me. That was the final straw - "Don't tell me to shut my mouth!" I replied (amazed at my inner strength in such a perilous situation!!!) At that moment it was her turn in the queue - the old lady behind us pipped up "She's playing the system!" and blew a raspberry in her direction. And I just stood stunned that this chav could be bothered to cause an argument and raise blood-pressure levels all for the sake of 2 extra items, which no-one could really care less about. Alas, that is England today, when people are just dying to get aggressive over anything whatsoever. As we walked sadly out of the store my son turned to me and said "I was actually counting her items".

WE KNOW HE LOVES US, REALLY!!!

Crash Bang Smash!

Why is it that whenever your car's involved in a smash it always sounds worse than the damage actually done (thankfully!) ???

Well, today I was really tired. I was parking in a car park and was reversing out of a space. Suddenly -- BANG - for some reason I didn't spot a car driving behind me. My car's 18 months old, the car I hit was an old banger. "Ok", I told myself groaning, "First rule of car smashes, never admit responsibility". I got out of my car feeling sick to the stomach.

"You weren't looking - you hit us!" cried an old-ish lady getting out of the passenger side of the car behind. Glancing at her passenger door I could see there was no apparent damage. "I know, I'm sorry" I said meekly (whilst noticing out the corner of my eye a new dent in the rear of my car). The lady then proceeded to furtively check for any inch of a mark on her passenger door that they could claim against me from my car insurance, but much to my relief and their despair, there wasn't one! I got back into my car, shaking from shock and they proceeded to drive away. Meanwhile some totally unconnected young lady driving a huge child chariot wagon proceeded to shout abuse towards me but I didn't give her the pleasure of looking at her for long enough - interferring busybody!!! Oh how I love life in England!!!!!! NOT!!!

I am sitting here wondering why on earth I have started a blog. Me? At the ripe old age of 38 doing an internet blog! It would have been unthinkable even up to a month ago. I am smiling. I have recently mastered the art of downloading music, although I must confess it was so much easier years ago taping things than "burning" them onto disc. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a technophobe. I embrace the new technology as much as I am able to understand it but I loved tape as a recordable medium. Even DVDs - they're disappointing. With a VHS you could rewind, pause and forward to exactly where you wanted. With DVDs you have to go back to chapters. Ok, the quality's improved but it's still darn inconvenient! So, I feel like an old fogey.

Yet I've never been one to hide from my age. You won't find me going for a botox to patch up an old wrinkle or squeezing into unsuitable fashions to go clubbing. No, gone are the days when I used to glam up to spend my evenings in smoky, noisy environments desperately trying to avoid the gaze of the sweaty creep that was making his way towards me in the hope of a slow dance.

Yes, younger people these days have got it so much easier. Everything you want at the click of a button. You want a book - click - it will be there in a day or two. You want music - click - it's on your computer in a matter of seconds. You want a dvd - renting them's for the old fogeys - click - it's downloaded onto your computer. We are creating what I call the Instant Generation. No patience, and gimme, gimme, gimme it now. What this means for the future, who can tell. I know that I won't be around. Maybe I'll have checked in for a botox or a realignment of molecular structure by then!!!!