Thanks For The Memory, Now Die

Welcome to Tracy at Gardening Obsession. I have perused your posts and I am now very green with envy. Unfortunately, I fear this greenness will not spread to my fingers. My sister inherited our mum’s green fingers, while I inherited (Mum, please, please don’t take offence at this) mad hair.

It’s weird the things that can jog a memory.

Last night, I was in bed (you can stop that right now, it’s not that sort of memory – my family read this. I might not be averse to traumatising strangers, but I’d like to be able to carry on looking my relatives in the eye) and a fly dive bombed past my nose while I was reading.

I hate flies in my bedroom.

They seem to take great delight in being irritating gits and get pleasure in zooming past saying “nah-nah-na-na-naaah, look at meeee, I’m here to wind you uu-up. Then I’m gonna wait til you fall asleep and I’m gonna explore your mouth while you’re snoring” (although I don’t actually snore. Unless I’m passed out drunk. Or my hayfever and/or asthma is playing up).

Wait.

Nice image I’m presenting of myself here – a sneezing, wheezing alcoholic with mad hair, a potty mouth and an imaginary lady bits disease (see the previous post and comments if you’re confused). The facts are:

1. Yes, I like a drink, although not to excess (very often).

2. Yes, I have mad hair, getting madder as I get older.

3. Yes, I like swearing. Tough shit.

4. NO, I DO NOT HAVE DISEASED LADY BITS (unless you’re The Widower reading this, in which case my lady bits are extremely diseased).

I wanted to clear that up (no pun intended) because that’s how rumours start. But, I wonder what would happen if I did a personal ad:

Sociable, breathless female,

with interesting hair, a wide & varied vocabulary

& who has imaginary secret garden malady

WLTM…

Bet I’d get loads of replies. Loads.

I’ve lost my train of thought now. Where was I? Oh yes. Flies.

A fly in my bedroom is not tolerated. It gets got. And I do not rest until it is squished and flushed. Last night, the second the fly flew past my nose, it signed its death warrant. I was on a mission.

The OK magazine was grabbed from under the bed (a.k.a. What’s Katie Price Up To Now? a.k.a. Who Gives A Shit What Katie Price Is Doing Now, a.k.a. Why Did I Buy This Bloody Magazine?) and the fly hunt commenced.

As I was leaping around the bedroom muttering, “I’m gonna get you, you bastard,” I suddenly had a flashback to many years ago, which made me laugh and gave the fly a temporary stay of execution.

Significant Other and I were in bed (give it up, it’s still not that sort of memory), and there was a fly.

Wearing my buttoned-right-up-to-the-neck and floor-sweeping winceyette pyjamas, plus neck-to-toe fleecy dressing gown (not really, but I’m so not going to say what I was really wearing, otherwise you’ll be making up your own memory), I seized a newspaper and leapt into action.

I was jumping about all over the place, desperate to swat the fly.

Let’s just say that at first, Significant Other was enjoying the entertainment.

Until.

In one of those slow motion moments that you can do nothing about, my arm swept down and whacked him across the head with the newspaper.

Oh, how he laughed.

Oh, how I laughed.

Or rather...

Oh, how he swore.

Oh, how I tried not to laugh.

Trying to contain my sniggering, I apologised profusely while he rubbed newspaper print off his head and picked his glasses up from the floor.

Luckily enough, Significant Other saw the funny side and I was forgiven.

“Aww, cheers mate,” I said to the fly last night.

Then I squished it and flushed it.

Oh Happy Day - Bub Style

I was invited to a singing workshop on Saturday evening run by my friend, Cosmo. It was being held to help raise money for The Smiles Foundation – a charity which helps parents and children struggling in Romania.

Yes, that’s right. Your eyes do not deceive you. You read it right. A singing workshop.

Me.

Singing.

In public.

Cosmo seemed to think I can sing in tune. The last time she heard me sing while sober was when we were sixteen. With the distance of time, her memory had clearly failed her.

Seeing as it was for a good cause I decided I’d go, even though I knew I’d be inflicting my caterwauling on the other poor, unsuspecting sods people who would also be attending the event.

When we started, I felt a touch self conscious at first, but then thought, ‘ah what the hell, I’ve paid money to do this’ and sang with gusto.

The song we were learning to sing was Oh Happy Day, with harmonies (plus my own special harmonies), Sister Act style.

After a few minutes, the lady standing in front of me moved away. She obviously didn’t appreciate some of the finer notes I was belting out.

She rummaged around in a bag and pulled out a bottle of wine. After quickly downing about half of it, she moved back. I sang louder, knowing she was in a better state to recognize my inconsiderable talent.

I think she did. She even turned round and, with a slightly cross-eyed, glazed look, smiled at me.

Others may have viewed it as a pained grimace.

More people began following her example by partaking in an alcoholic beverage or several. They ran out of booze and someone was dispatched to go and buy more from the shop round the corner.

It occurred to me that the regular singers had experienced this before. The reason this thought crossed my mind, was because of the speed at which the alcohol was produced and consumed.

They’d evidently learnt from previous events, that the only way to blunt any torturous noise enough to enable them to get through the evening, was to drink. Quite a bit.

I didn’t touch a drop, due to the need to drive home afterwards. However, I  did thoroughly enjoy the evening.

Eventually, so did everyone else.

Those parents and children in Romania need never know what had to be endured by so few, to help so many.

Not So Handy Household Hints

(Otherwise Known As Lessons Learnt The Hard Way)

When shaking a bottle of sauce, don't go to the trouble of checking the lid is screwed on properly. This is a quick way to creatively redecorate your kitchen.

Make sure your daughter's favourite woollen jumper gets washed on a normal cycle in the washing machine. Her younger sister will be pleased to have a new item of clothing for her doll.

When it's blowing a hooley outside, make sure to stand upwind when washing out a wheelie bin with a hose, so you get an impromptu shower. The same principle also applies when emptying out the lawnmower grassbox. If you can do both while standing upwind - wheelie bin, followed later by grassbox - you'll give the neighbours a good laugh.

Leave your phone in the kitchen, then wash the floor. Before it's dry and your phone rings, you can rush to answer it. There's much merriment to be had in slipping and falling over.

Your toddler wants to prove she's a budding artist, so leave your handbag open within reach of her. Look with appreciation at the abstract lipstick artwork on the wall.

When emptying your new Dyson for the first time, ensure you pull the trigger to release the contents onto the floor before you get to the bin. You can then spend ages happily re-vacuuming the dust you've already collected once.

Make sure you leave a bottle of cooking oil somewhere your three year old daughter can reach it. Doing this ensures she gets the opportunity to pour it all over the kitchen floor. Even better, let her do it just before the gas man turns up to install your new cooker.

When cleaning the bath, lay the shower head down, rather than putting it back in the holder. Turn the shower on to rinse the bath, but forget to pick the head up and you'll get the chance to wash your hair at the same time.

When making a rare foray into your daughter's bedroom to liberate cups etc, make sure you praise her for the impressive science experiment she's cultivating in a mug under the bed after you've put your hand in it.

When it's blowing a hooley outside, but it's otherwise a great day for getting washing dry, don't bother securely pegging your duvet cover to the washing line. Then you can have fun retrieving it by clambering across a ditch into the field next door. This will also give the neighbours a good laugh.

First thing in the morning, put the plug in the bath, turn on the taps, then go back to bed and fall asleep. It's a good way to ensure the kitchen below gets a thorough cleaning.

In the garden, stand on a wooden table to cut back some trees. Standing on the table will save you the bother of getting the ladder out. Don't worry about checking first to see if any of the table legs are rotten, because there's much laughter to be had when your husband tries to catch you, unfortunately fails, and you land in a heap on the rockery.

Leave the stiff bolt on the bathroom door, so your young daughter can lock herself in there. She can then play with cold water and subsequently be unable to unlock the bolt. To make it more of an experience for both of you, let this happen when you're eight and a half months pregnant, at a time when you're feeling and looking like a beached whale. Then get someone to advise you to try and kick the door in to release your daughter.

If you're feeling adventurous, wear flip-flops while using a kangol hammer drill to dig up a patio. Later, you can listen to your mother having a fit at the other end of the phone when she sees the photos (sorry Mum), while you're quietly picking bits of paving out of your feet.

Again, if you're feeling a little adventurous, when washing up make sure there are plenty of bubbles and put sharp knives into the bowl. Also known as Russian Roulette, kitchen style.

Invite your friends over and hold your own foam party in the wetroom after your daughter uses copious amounts of bubble bath instead of shower gel.

A day or two before school photographs are due to be taken, leave a pair of scissors within reach of your children. You'll cherish the picture of your youngest daughter with a fringe like Herman Munster.

When you have a builder in and you're taking photos of work in progress, make sure the flash is on when using the camera. This way, you can watch him jump when the flash goes off while he's removing electrical wiring. You may also get the chance to learn some new vocabulary.

After putting bread under the grill for toast, walk away and forget it. The smoke alarm will let you when know your house has been fully fragranced with essence of burnt bread.

During the hair colouring process, walk into your bedroom, remove the old, dye covered towel you've got round your shoulders and fling it on your pristine white duvet cover. A bit later, after you pick the towel up, stand back and admire the new pattern on the duvet cover.


The research above is by no means exhaustive, but I feel I have to stop before coming across like a complete and utter idiot. In my defense, this research has taken years to compile, although I will admit that three of the items above have occurred during the last week. Ah well, live and learn, that's my excuse. Or perhaps I'm an idiot.

Bucket List

About a month ago I decided I 'needed' a new mobile phone. Not just any mobile phone but an iPhone. So I got one and like any new toy started playing with it. Whilst browsing through the apps I came across a Bucket List app, as in 'things to do before you kick the bucket'.

Alright, I'll come clean. I wasn't just browsing, I was searching for an app that allows me to make lists. I need lists. Can't function these days without a list. Shopping list, things to do list, things to take to wherever list etc etc. Anyway, I digress. Intrigued, I installed the app and started my list.

I've mentioned to a few people that I've started this list and they had the same reaction - a grimace and a remark of 'how morbid'. Not at all - I see it as something postive, things to aim for, goals. I think I managed to convince them once I showed them what my list includes - what I'd like to do/see and what I've already achieved in my forty-something years. Surprised myself actually. I'm not as boring as I thought!

There's also the option to share your items which get uploaded to the server, so others around the world can see your aims but equally, you can see other people's stuff (and pinch ideas, or not, in the case of the person who wants to 'Live Through The Zombie Apocalypse' - wtf?!).

Some of the things on my list are unlikely to be achieved unless I win mega money on the lottery - but what the hell, they're staying. For example,  I'd like to view the wreck of the Titanic from a submarine. Highly unlikely to happen, but staying. I'd love to fly in a Typhoon. Not going to happen, but is so staying on the list.

Having a helicopter lesson is most certainly achievable, as is learning to salsa dance and holding a tarantula (hence the title of this blog), but not all to be done at the same time I hasten to add.

A green tick appears next to the stuff you've already done. Right at this moment, top of my list, with a big, fat, very satisfying green tick next to it is Do A Skydive. Oh yes. Achieved in Australia, over a beach, in February this year. 14,000 feet no less. Wooohoooo!!

What else appears on my 'to do' list? Things like: sail on a tallship, see the earth from space (yes, I know), see the Northern Lights, go whale watching, blah blah blah.

What appears (apart from the skydive - did I mention the skydive?) on my oh so pleased with myself, green ticked 'done it' list? Things like: walk behind a waterfall, have a mudfight, raise my children to be independant, go to New York, blah blah blah.

I constantly add items to both lists as I think of them. Added to my 'done list' the other day was 'Climb into an overhead locker on an Airbus 319'. Not that for one minute do I think it's high up on many people's must do lists, if it's there at all, but yes, I've done that and got the photo to prove it. No, it won't be posted on here - maybe my sister can use her imagination and do an artist's impression instead. And no, it wasn't easy to do wearing a skirt.

Let me elaborate a bit. I used to be employed as cabin crew for a low-cost airline and sometimes when waiting for passengers, we'd get bored. Very bored. Anyway, moving swiftly on, somebody commented on this Bucket List item. The comment? 'You're awesome'. Was very flattered, but then realised they probably think I was a passenger who randomly decided to climb into an overhead locker when boarding an aircraft and thus created chaos.

So, should my anonymous admirer ever find and read this blog, I've just shattered his/her illusions.

Oops.

Where to start?

Life changed irrevocably at 3:20pm on October 1st 2008. That was the day my husband - Significant Other - my soulmate, my best friend, was diagnosed with terminal cancer and given a prognosis of mere months. He died peacefully at home six months later.

Naturally enough I've gone through a wide and varied range of thoughts, feelings and emotions, from the time of his diagnosis and since his death. After feeling like I'd been ripped apart, I am beginning to rejoin the world again and am gradually finding some sort of new normality.

I'm totally new to this blogging lark - in fact it's through my sister that I'm here at all. She emailed me a link to her blog, I read through it and some others, and thought to myself - why not? So here I am, a blogging virgin.

I don't think this is going to be a themed blog - I'm not into baking fancy cakes to show off, or anything like that. I have a feeling it's going to be complete randomness. Ah well, we'll see what happens.

Oh, also, I can't promise I won't swear, because I do. A lot. But I'll try to contain it as best I can. Maybe.