Long overdue update

Have hurt foot in undignified tumble. Happened in pub down the road, (not my local), when stone cold sober I tripped over small difference in level of floor. Pain in ankle intense, and concerned owners rushed forward bearing offers of brandy, and bag of ice. Is over a week since this occurred and am still limping, foot is spectacularly bruised, and fear may have broken one of 26 small bones which apparently lurk in foot. Have not of course, being me, sought medical advice, but application of elastic bandage yesterday seems to be helping a lot. Even ventured onto dance floor last night, of which more later. For first time ever was glad of Two's obsession with collecting elastic bandages, it seems he has one for every occasion!

So, went cautiously to pub last night, and was standing with Trev listening to girl singer, when she embarked upon the Amy Winehouse song 'Valerie', and dead on cue the door was flung open by my friend Andy, who was a little inebriated and homed in on me for dance. Trusting in elastic bandage I entered into somewhat convulated and innovative dance with Andy, who, bless him, had quite forgotten my injury. Was ok though. Am hopeful is Getting Better.

Plumping Up

Have bought set of scales in order to monitor weight. Am still very underweight, 7 stones and 9 lbs to be precise. Should be, ahem, 9 stones at least. So, having googled 'How to put on Weight', and discovered need to eat food which is 'absorbed', and avoid coffee, cigarettes, stress etc etc. have realised stuffing down cream buns is not going to work. Well, it might eventually, but presumably might drop dead with heart attack in process. Eight stones is target at moment. Sadly am very fond of coffee and cigarettes. Stress unavoidable sometimes. Is not going to be easy.

Life at pub continues to intrigue. Many murky undercurrents. Not sure what is going on, but Something Is. If represents microcosm of life, is Very Worrying. Many knives sticking out of backs, plus secret assignations. Would make good soap.

Have decided to christen Trevor Three, for purposes of anonymity.

Hey Ho

Had lovely day yesterday. Me and Trev, (who's Trev? Where did he spring from?). Some of you will already know, so no further explanation required. Anyway, we visited his sister and her husband, then his brother and his wife, and had really great time. He has a very nice family. So have I of course. Am plucking up courage to address situation with Two. Keep opening mouth to discuss separating, then close mouth and Make Nice Cup Of Tea. Have no idea how Two will react. Am worried might Turn Nasty, but is probably due to my much famed default position, i.e. Jittery.

Have chance to visit Madeira this winter, via friend of Trev. Sounds good. Very good. Escape the endless snows that are sure to be visited upon us again. Only have to find £500 as is friend, plus air-fares, spending money of course. Think might be possible, but depends a lot on Trev getting more work, which is a bit hard to come by at the moment.

Busy Time

Have had lovely time with son, daughter-in-law and pooch, who were visiting from Geneva. They went on circular walk in Peak District, found by self in Saturday Telegraph supplement. According to article walk should take 3 to 4 hours, but they completed it in about 1 and a half hours. Apparently the route was fairly busy, mostly with other people clutching the Telegraph directions. Went out to dinner at local hostelry, entered raffle, and embarrassingly won nearly every prize. Ended up keeping rack of lamb and handing rest back. Have gone now, and house feels empty.

Went to pub Saturday night, was girl singer with rear-end size of small country. Have seen her before, and don't much like. Sings with fake American accent which renders the lyrics unrecognisable. Nobody danced much as songs were so mangled, but eventually as the alcohol took hold, a few couples ventured out. Notably during singer's innovative rendition of 'I had the time of my life' from Dirty Dancing, some guy recklessly tried the lift from film, and launched be-spectacled and equally squiffy girl-friend up into air and smacked her head on very low beam. Ouch!!! Have also heard report subsequently that girl singer asked female customer to assist disentangle her necklace, and made pass at her. All this rural depravity too much for self.

Two is Losing The Plot

Two is still glum, although slightly less so, but is now exhibiting signs of mild aggression. Still has post-nasal drip, still coughing. When he finally emerged from pink cocoon yesterday morning, announced he was going to be pissed off at sight of me cleaning living room, and started waving arms about in agitated fashion and haranguing me in shrill tones. What, he demanded, are you planning to do with my stuff? Eyes popping with indignation he indicated the piles of paper and assorted crap adorning mellow gate-legged table. Well pardon me for wanting to polish and clean. Muttering darkly he then proceeded to gather everything up and move it onto the sofa. Lovely. I am going out he informed me, and shan't be back for some time. Very Captain Oatsey.

During prolonged (and most welcome) absence of Two, finally managed to achieve degree of tidiness and cleanliness hitherto unseen in small dusty cottage. Broke two nails in process, but feel worthwhile sacrifice. Two finally hove back into sight mid-afternoon, sporting two carrier bags of M & S food, and in better frame of mind. Proceeded to tell me he had parked car, went to lock it, discovered keys were not in pocket but still in ignition with engine still running. Am wondering if Safe To Be Let Out Alone. Probably not, but alternative too ghastly to contemplate. Cannot become Keeper of Two. Is obviously going mad. Today need to address tidying back yard. Am preparing self for new episode of arm-waving, eye-popping behaviour. Can't wait.

Vast cache found

Brief update on previous blog. Forgot to mention found large quantity of Movicol laxative in carrier bag underneath cocktail cabinet. Am wondering if this constitutes more than legally permitted for personal use. Is in fact Two dealing in Movicol? Are the chronically constipated beating a path to our door and slipping him a Monkey for their fix? Or should that be Unfix? Am at loss to know what to do with mountain of contraband laxative. Two is still asleep and I am being considerate in not firing up the hoover. Am getting frustrated, but at least is quiet. Think will flush Movicol down loo, an appropriate shortcut to disposing of it. Am bit worried though in case Gets Into Water Supply and we have an epidemic of diarrhoea in Derbyshire.

Two still dripping

Two is still suffering from sinusitis. Is exceedingly glum, has chronic cough and has now Lost Appetite. Must admit feel bit sorry as he goes into Yet Another Paroxysm, culminating in revolting retch in manner of hyena being garotted. Not sure how much more I can take. Is quiet at moment as is 7 am and is still in land of Nod beneath shocking pink duvet. Hope antibiotics start to kick in soon for both our sakes.

Have decided to swoop on living room as is starting to look alarmingly like interior of Acorn Antiques. Managed to rouse Two from sinus stupor in order to remove hideous shelves from alcove, after which he collapsed in heap over bowl of Minestrone soup, most of which he left. Keeps falling asleep sitting up, mouth open, and breathing registering somewhere very high on the Beaufort Scale. Is most alarming. Have to turn volume up on telly. But I digress. Have heaved mock Welsh Dresser into shelfless alcove, where it looks rather good. Now have to wait until Two Springs To Life, before can continue re-arranging room. Emptying cocktail cabinet is major job, let alone shoving it round the limited space available in attempt to find Somewhere To Put It. Has been sitting at natty angle in alcove under wall-clock for quite some time, looking ill at ease and somewhat over burdened with bric a brac, bottles, photographs etc.etc. Have also at some point to don heavy duty gloves and face mask to tackle backyard, which Two has converted into bird santuary come rubbish tip. Ditto living room, except for bird sanctuary bit. Dining room table, (mellow gate-leg) is invisible beneath detritus relating to Two's other obsession, the horses. Unbelievable mounds of paper are concealing beautiful polished surface of mellow gate-leg, along with assorted purchases via Amazon concerning Poker and Blackjack. This house is too small. His hobbies are too messy. But I will not be defeated, although I envisage Trouble Ahead, especially when I swoop on gate-leg and yard.

Post Nasal Drip

Have just come downstairs at 6 am and discovered Two sitting propped up on sofa looking extremely glum. Actually could hardly see him at first, as had not drawn curtains and was sitting glumly in gloom. Has chronic cough, apparently not chest infection as diagnosed by self, but sinusitis as diagnosed by medical professional, i.e. doctor. Is now on anti-biotics, which I pray fervently will Soon Take Effect. Cough cough cough. Spit, spit spit. Is Horrible. Has something vile called Post Nasal Drip. Made him cup of tea in spirit of Florence Nightingale. Cough cough. Cough cough. Then, in plaintive voice, 'Does it stink of stale cigarette smoke in here'? Well probably yes, as refuses to Open Windows unless temperature in high seventies. Will attempt to Freshen Up room before visit of son and daughter in law. Ditto Two.

Snipped.

Is Friday and have just returned from local hairdresser, not 'cum to basin duck' this time. Have had drastic Trim, as hair was Getting Out of Control. Yes, even with Very Large Indeed Rollers and copious quantities of setting-lotion, laughing Cavalier look was failing to Hold Position. Jovial male hairdresser, (I have been before), has snipped me a trifle shorter than I wanted. Deja vu. Now have to attempt inserting Very Large Indeed Rollers into much less hair. Having discussed how Very Fine my hair is, was persuaded to purchase Inter-Continental-Ballistic Missile Size can of Very Very Firm Hold Mousse. Should be interesting, but at least will be spared setting-lotion trickling down back. Think combination of V.L.I.Rollers and V.V.F.H. Mousse will raise hair above level of jowels, probably to somewhere in region of eyebrows. Will report back, if can see through tears. Think will try wig again. Did I mention wig? Bought at local market, is shiny, straight, and makes me look about fourteen in downstairs mirror, (dim lighting) and like Someone Who Shouldn't Be Allowed Out On Own in upstairs mirror. Have not confidence to actually Wear It Out, alone or otherwise.

Two is still coughing in alarming fashion, and preventing me from hearing vital news items, etc.etc. Will he ever Go Out? Is like permanent bloody fixture on sofa, or dining room chair.

Two is gently steaming

Two has nasty cough. This morning I suggested might be due to chest infection, whereupon he bounded with alacrity to phone doctor. No appointments being available, they said doctor would phone back, which admirably, he did. Two was quizzed on State on Health, and was told to put head over bowl steaming water and inhale. Was told to sleep propped up. and contact surgery if symptoms worsened. Since then, he has indeed boiled kettle and with tea-towel (well honestly), draped over head, hovered over bowl of steaming water. Following this he returned to living room, sat down and lit fag. No antibiotics for 71 year olds it seems. Steam is the answer. Is free.

Am itching to 'change room round', but Two is sitting as ever implacably in front of laptop, and is nowhere else I can send him. Sorry about italics, is occupational hazard. Has created horrible mess on dining-table, horrible mess upstairs, and truly horrible mess in yard, which is knee-deep in bird seed, pigeon shit, and various bits of do-it-yourself equipment. Two is quite frankly, pain in arse. Does absolutely nothing except make mess. Also dropped my pudding (lemon meringue pie) onto floor last night, and put my Nutella in fridge, rendering same unspreadable as is hard as rock. Harder probably. Is very irritating. Feel claustrophobic. Only escape is bedroom, which is my territory as Two sleeps on landing, currently cocooned beneath violent pink duvet. Wonder if could be persuaded to relocate to outhouse with furry friends, imported by Two's obsessive purchasing of bird seed. Am feeling trapped in own house. Is not nice.

Glued to TV

Was positively transfixed by yesterdays interrogation of The Murdock Two. Cannot say I understood all the ramifications, but was compelling TV. Kept shouting 'wheel out The Minx' as was eagerly awaiting appearance of Rebecca (Rebekah?) Brooks. When Minx finally hove into view following the shaving cream incident, thought I detected certain Toning Down of Red Fright Wig, thought she was cool, calm, and very self-assured. Still don't know what to make of it all.

Trouble at Mill

Is amazing. There is uneasy feeling in pub, due to disgruntled customers and presence behind bar of personable newcomer, who has swept all before him. Something of an enigma, he has earned the soubriquet 'Goldenballs', as appears can do no wrong. Is living in, and has already taken to composing quite vicious little poems about the regulars, which he recites readily on request. Admittedly not all are character assassinations, but there is something a little spiteful in most of them. We are subjected to tales of his various conquests in the surrounding area, and that his ex, whom he describes as drop dead gorgeous, but quite insane, is stalking him. Without wishing to appear paranoid, I get the strong feeling he is hell bent on Stirring Up Trouble. Time will tell.

Reason some customers, notably the Late Crew are upset, is due to fact the pub was closed without prior notification one evening, and they rolled up to find door locked. Seems there are too many decisions taken by the various people in charge without consulting each other. Is microcosm of life in small rural society. All very strange.

Hair Report

Just to confirm that experiment with setting lotion in conjunction with Very Large Indeed Rollers has proved successful. To a point. Have sticky hair. Am now sticky version of Laughing Cavalier.

Two loses control of wardrobe

Two has been shopping for sports orientated garment to wear to gym. Explained at some length needed top to wear that would be (a) easily foldable for storage in locker, (b) festooned with many pockets, pouches etc. for keys, wallet, etc etc. , and (c) multi-seasonal i.e. All Weather garment. I ventured to suggest already has several tops fitting this description in wardrobe, but was scornfully ignored. Needless to say, having rampaged around Primark and returned in triumph with Yet Another Sports orientated garment, Two has now rootled around in wardrobe, and discovered two practically identical items hanging in squashed manner between quite a lot of natty shirts. Marks and Spencer Blue Harbour range, ( the sporty tops, not the shirts).Wonder who conceived brand-name? Sounds enticing to men who fantasise about standing on bridge of own vessel, slate blue eyes narrowed with concentration, salt spray stinging their skin as they grip the wheel (is it a wheel?) and steer towards distant horizon with the spirit of the buccaneer surging through their popping veins. Does the rowing machine at the gym quite fulfill these nautical fantasies I wonder? Anyway, am glad to report Two is now a Fully Fledged Sporty Garment Person. A man for all seasons. That is, until winter sets in, when I envisage Fur may come into play. Gets mighty cold up here.

Most accidents happen in the home.....

Am pondering on whether can sue cupboard door in kitchen, as launched unprovoked and vicious attack on self yesterday. Have lump on eyebrow to prove same. Was putting plates away and went to close door when it met sharply with head. Very sharply. Staggered about living room moaning expletives for some little while, before subsiding into chair and anxiously surveying damage in mirror. Small lump was already emerging. Lump still present this morning, but no bruising. Is possible Two has fixed powerful spring to door in order to Render Me Unconscious. Nearly succeeded.

On lighter note, have purchased bottle of Setting Lotion to use in conjunction with Very Large Indeed Rollers. Have in fact returned to days of Shampoo and Set. Will try it out later and report back. Am hopeful will emerge with Locked In Laughing Cavalier effect.

Disaster narrowly averted

Quite forgot to report this little episode. Go Hot and Cold when think of it. Was last Saturday night, when groomed to the last whisker, the epitome of rural sophistication, I set off for the pub. Was in act of opening front door and gingerly finding footing with killer heels, when Two burst out laughing. Assumed was something on telly and ignored him, until between guffaws he informed me I had a Very Large Indeed Roller stuck to my bum. They are of course the sort that adhere to hair of own accord. Was mortified. Had he not noticed, would have stalked into pub imperiously, and been Complete Laughing Stock. Still shudder when think of it. Must have sat on Very Large Indeed Roller on bed. Not often I am grateful to Two, (not often he notices what I am wearing actually), but is to his credit he told me. Like to think would reciprocate in similar circumstances, but think might be very tempted to Keep Quiet. Not that Two is likely to sit on Very Large Indeed Rollers. Am now paranoid and have taken to counting Very Large Indeed Rollers in and out. As narrow squeaks go, this was up there.

Life in general

Am sitting festooned with Extremely Large Rollers waiting for hair to dry. Two has gone to gym to be induced, (sounds faintly obscene). He will then no doubt play on the machines, and arrive back in state of near collapse. Has purchased horrible knee length blue shorts and also ordered new trainers for this enterprise. Obviously taking it very seriously. Seeing as he sprained his wrist lifting the kettle recently, I am not overly optimistic about his Fitness Level. He has been sporting a bandage over the afflicted area (any excuse), and has another adorning his knee which is Giving Him Pain. I am meeting old friend from Down South this afternoon for chin-wag in local cafe. She comes up occasionally to visit her daughter, so we Seize the Opportunity for chat. Having recently attended funeral of another friend, am feeling people are being Plucked From Me. She died quite quickly from cancer, and I shall miss her perky voice on telephone, and quirky sense of humour. Is very sad.

On lighter (or oranger) note, my face has become quite brown round the edges in manner of over-cooked pastry. I say brown, is really light orange. Hair still resolutely brown/grey/blonde combination. Need to address this. Am still awaiting delivery of treble recorder so can merrily pipe out tunes and infuriate neighbours. Saturday night at pub was a bit dire last week. Very Drunk Lady seized microphone from hapless singer, and began serenading us untunefully for some considerable time. Became very painful. When she launched into 'The Day the
Music Died', we nodded meaningfully at each other and vacated the bar. Proper singer was majorly pissed off, as well he might be.

Dilemma ever more pressing

The Horns of my Dilemma are indeed sharp. Increasingly so. Decision must be made. Am not prepared to reveal manner of dilemma yet. But is pressing.

Have today ordered treble recorder and book on how to play it. Why is everything underlined suddenly? Have no idea how to rectify this. Shall finish this Blog and await delivery of recorder, hopefully in next couple of days. Shrill piping shall float through the air, (actually shouldn't be shrill, as treble not descant), and am hopeful spirited rendition of Frere Jacque will shortly be possible. Played descant as child, was particularly nifty at 'Cock of the North'.

Roller Success!!!

Am settling down to men's semi-final at Wimbledon, but taking time out to report unmitigated success of Very Large Indeed Rollers. Is true I present rather alarming image, festooned with said rollers. am hoping no-one knocks at door. Circumference of head is increased greatly by presence of Very Large Indeed Rollers, and have just successfully landed Boeing 737 at East Midlands Airport by dint of rcceiving signals from Air Traffic Control.

At last, on removal of Very Large Indeed Rollers, am delighted to announce, hair is softly curling in manner of Laughing Cavalier, and surprisingly, suits self. Has also given desired Root Lift as predicted by 'Come over to basin Duck' hairdresser. True, is hard to lie down on sofa on Very Large Indeed Rollers, but beauty comes at a price. Are very prickly.

Brown in parts

Following assiduous application of Dove Sun-Kissed doodah on face, can now report have noticed definite change of colour. Not, am relieved to note, orange. At least not yet. Only problem seems to be, everywhere else still white. Okay, dingy grey.

Mad sister has informed me that she had her eyebrows done again. I have no eyebrows, and hers are a little sparse, but they are now apparently Highly Visible and resemble two dark brown caterpillars crawling across forehead. Has also been to hairdressers and emerged with pudding bowl haircut. All sounds most attractive. Related tale of self's visit to local salon, and failure to become blonde, following application of semi-permanent tint. She scoffed at this, and told me I need a Permanent Tint, as semi-permanent won't do the job. Should have consulted her in first place it seems. Am thinking of doing hair self. Many products on market to achieve this, and can't be any worse. Well, could be actually. Might go bald. Have treated self to retro style summer dress, in manner of late fifties. Is flowery, strappy, and has long circular skirt which swirls most gratifyingly when moving. Downside is, have to wear small cardigan to conceal pleated arms. Am wondering if arm replacement might be option. Have two new toned ones sewn on. Alternatively, could iron out pleats maybe. Ho Hum.

The Future Must Not Be Orange

Rats, have just lost blog. Was nearly finished as well. Is very irritating. Two has vamoosed again, off to, ahem, Chesterfield. Have showered, annointed ageing body parts with cream, and applied Dove moisturiser containing slow release effect to achieve sun-kissed complexion in a week. Can only pray will not be sporting orange moustache by Saturday. Am anxiously peering in mirror every few minutes. So far, no orange moustache evident. Am trying to find cure for pleated arms, which are becoming quite terrifying to behold. Is bad enough having face rushing past self when looking down, but arms now following suit. Cannot defy gravity it seems

Am about to reveal that am On Horns of Personal Dilemma. Reluctant to reveal details, suffice to say Am Well and Truly Impaled. Do not know what to do for best. Is time possibly for Courage, but as mentioned before, jittery is my default mode. Will give matter more thought. Is Wimbledon at moment, so am able to distract self.

En France continued.....

Had lovely time with grandsons, three and six years old. Both almost entirely bilingual, which is more than we can say for their mono-lingual, but Will Persist in Mangling French, Nana. Daughter took me and grandsons on trip into Paris central, which caused great concern to three year old, who kept saying in imperative manner, 'Come, come, Nana' as we boarded the various Metro lines. He seemed agreeably worried that I might get lost, and kept checking I was Still In Tow. The six year old was more sanguine, but demonstrated Very Good Manners on many occasions, carrying any heavy items that I became burdened with.

Went to the International School's International Day, which consisted of a great many stalls selling ware pertinent to their country of origin. English stall laden with cakes, American with hot-dogs, German with Vast Unchewable Sausages etc. etc. Chief impression was of Highly Competitive Parents, aghast at very thought of Coca-Cola, and enrolling their exhausted offspring in myriad extra-curricular activities, presumably so they have no opportunity of meeting up with the Devils Brew, or experimenting with any other noxious substances. All highly laudable I agree, and Highly Responsible Parenting. One Highly Responsible Mother was shocked beyond belief that she met somebody who actually Had A Bottle of Coca-Cola on the table AT MEALTIMES! She harped on this heinous crime for quite some time, until I felt like remarking that at least it wasn't a pot of crack cocaine, but resisted impulse as felt it wouldn't have Gone Down Too Well.

Take a seat duck........

Before I continue further with my French Connection experiences, I have to record visit to local hairdressers this morning. How delightfully unsophisticated were they, from the casual 'hang your coat up duck', to the equally unsophisticated and delightfully unexpected cost. Had decided grey hair was in need of Easing Out, and requested to Be Blonde. Must admit in harsh light of day, looked reasonably blonde already, but embellishments of grey Not Attractive. Having 'taken a seat duck', I was presented with choices of colour, advised which one to have, advised to go for semi-permanent, 'in case you don't like it duck', and was accordingly slathered in appropriate tint. No escorting to chairs took place. 'Sit over there my duck, there's some magazines on shelf, would you like a drink'? Everybody in there seemed to be friends, it was all most convivial. Once 'cooked', I was told to 'sit down at washbasin, no-this one duck, just got water warm and it takes ages to heat up'. Shampooed and blown dry, I went to pay with debit card, but they didn't have machine. A cheque would be fine they said. I have no cheque book now. Amazingly the cost was just under £20. This much cash I had. Last time I was coloured Down South, it cost £90. Shall I be returning for permanent tint? You bet I will duck.

Le Blog Posted to Wrong Place

Note to legions of followers. First Blog relating to French Visit by self, has been accidentally posted to Tickle Your Fancy. Haven't clue how to retrieve and re-designate. Sorry. Je suis desolee. (That looks wrong).

Another Hair Related Malfunction

Hairdryer exploded last night, leaving self with perkily dry fringe and the remaining locks sopping wet. Was off to pub, so this constituted Major Catastrophe. Attempted to Put Hair Up with aid of vicious toothed clip, which produced thin hank of hair dangling in forlorn manner from back of head. Also perforated scalp with vicious toothed clip. One hour and many expletives later, decided to tie hair at nape, and Hope For The Best. Was not my finest hour.

Alas poor Elvis, I knew him well

Word at the pub that Elvis the cockerel has met Untimely End. His brief sojourn in the car-park is over, and his erstwhile owner Bob the Farmer is being tight-lipped on subject. We who live in close proximity to pub are in mourning. He was an indefatigable crower, and the silence is, well, silent.
Is sad.

Geoff, the chap who spends every waking moment building massive extension and other embellishments to his property, pitched up at pub last night on bicycle, with male friend (also on bicycle) in tow. Geoff's house, jocularly known as Geoff's Folly, is a Work In Progress, as I have mentioned in previous blog. It is His Life's Work, and there are many jokes about parapets, flying buttresses, ramparts etc. Last night he announced intention of incorporating gargoyle at gable end, fashioned to resemble our favourite grumpy barmaid, the wonderfully cantankerous Elaine. I am sure she will be delighted. After imbibing several pints, Geoff and friend donned caps with torches on elastic round them, and in delightfully eccentric Heath Robinson mode ,wobbled off into the night. They were splendidly lit at the front, but had no rear lights whatsoever. I can only hope they made it home safely down the unlit, meandering country roads.

Just have to mention have scored small victory over Two in matter of Should Bananas be Kept in Fridge. Two argued that bananas are shipped in refrigerated containers and should therefore be Fine In Fridge. I demurred. He insisted. Next day he admitted sheepishly They Had Gone Black.
I rest my case as they say.

Only other item of mild interest, we have new loo seat. Old one was perilously unstable.
Is not wildly important in Great Scheme of Things, but a comfort nevertheless, as have no wish to be catapaulted off loo, hit head on bath, and suffer mild concussion.

Hair malfunction and sundry items

Firstly, let me express remorse for current Failure to Blog on regular basis. Have just received e-mail from daughter-in-law in France, gently castigating me for sporadic blogging. Is true. Also failed to cover Royal Weddinng, which was Most Uplifting and Beautiful Occasion. Am sorry for this oversight. However, do not think Painting Pompier has taken offence at blog singing praises of his spritely Mother and Aunt. Doubt if Painting Pompier would have ever found blog.

Will now mention yesterdays Great Hair Malfunction. Thought would try bit of retro hairdressing in manner of 1960's, and gave self shampoo and set. With assorted pink rollers of the small and spongey variety. Spent day in state of High Excitement waiting for The Big Reveal when rollers could be removed to reveal myriad gentle, glossy waves falling in manner of mane to shoulders. Sadly and some might say inevitably, found self staring in mirror in horror, as great many chipolata sausages sprang from head in merry disorder. Looked disturbingly like Charles the First in full periwinkle wig. Frantic brushing only made matters worse. This was Big Hair with a vengeance, and then some. Note to self. Curly Hair Does Not Suit. Never Has. Never Will. Have consigned pink rollers to rubbish bin lest feel desire to experiment again. Have decided to attempt Sleek Chignon. Might reduce jowels if hair pulled tightly back. Hmm.

House Painted etc

Yes, our friendly ex-fireman and his wife have completed the job, and my little house has been transformed. Now has pristine cream walls with green window-sills, pipes, etc. Looks positively jaunty. If only farmer next door would follow suit, our row of three would look very dashing. Sadly his cottage is murky grey and he is mourning loss of two pigeons, taken by sparrow hawk. Feel outside decor not a priority.

Two has been a bit glum recently. Is, I think, bored. Hardly surprising as tends to spend days watching TV or hunched over laptop concocting ever more complex spreadsheets for horse racing odds. Is however planning expedition to B & Q to purchase new loo seat, which will at least Get Him Out of the House.

Am off to Paris soon on Eurostar to visit daughter and grandsons. Apparently 3 year old has forgotten me, so need to be reinstated in role as Nana from England.

Blonde Bombshells Alert

Have just been talking to Kevin, who is painting outside of house, with his wife! Admirable! But not as admirable as his 84 year old mother Gloria, and her 82 year old sister Iris, who are apparently twin blonde bombshells, attracting much attention from opposite sex by dint of their glamour, style and Big Hair. Iris, it transpires was banned from the Conservative Club in her late sixties, due to men fighting over her in the car-park. Literally fighting. What a wonderful pair of old ladies. I gather they are at present staying together here in Derbyshire, and venturing out dressed up to the nines, giving the old boys heart attacks. I salute them. Blonde hair, gold jewellery and all. Living life to the full. I would love to be banned from the Conservative Club because men were fighting over me. How much more life-enhancing than Crown Green Bowls, or a little sedate tea-dancing. Absolutely. Think will Go Blonde and Join In.

Here's to Gloria, Iris and their refusal to Give In. Here's to their enormous Joie de Vivre. Long may they giggle together.

A Little Light Globe Trotting

Am back blogging with mind blogging news! Flew to Switzerland with daughter and The Feckless One, to surprise son on occasion of his 40th birthday. Flew out Monday, flew back Wednesday. Feel like have joined jet-set in manner of speaking. Absolutely hate flying, but Gritted Teeth and did it. Was more than worth effort, as son was delighted and indeed very surprised to see Mother, Sister and Feckless One advancing across his sunny back garden, laden with gifts and much bonhomie. Splendid time had by all, and auspicious birthday marked in wonderful way. Daughter-in-law mightily relieved plan had come to fruition after telling many white lies to achieve necessary secrecy. Hurrah!!! Must mention was very impressed with Swiss Air. Cabin crew definitely Cut Above the no frills airlines, and Captain's voice both calm and reassuring from cockpit. Daughter and I share High Level of Nervousness in aeroplanes, and both of us have ears pricked for any slight deviation in noise of jet engines throughout flight. Both detected slight deviation whilst Cruising At Altitude, which drove me to ask for soothing glass white wine on return leg. Was fumbling in purse to pay for calming libation, but smiling steward informed me, 'Is on the house', or 'Is on the chalet'. Wunderbar! Took ages to land at Heathrow and was subjected to several stomach churning views of English countryside from various natty angles. Ears straining to hear comforting sound of landing gear locking, I shut eyes and prayed for deliverance, i.e. sound of wheels bumping gently onto runway. Was not helped by sight of hitherto Very Confident Flier (young man in seat opposite), casually adopting crash position as we came in to land. Wish could achieve studied nonchalance of seasoned flier. Would so enjoy take-off (great roar and thrust etc.etc.) but is always tempered by Fear of Flaps. Are they in correct position for maximum lift? Is airspeed sufficient? Has Captain had row with wife? Ah well, have now flown about 18 times, and things haven't improved. Would dearly love to visit USA, but probably have to travel by ship. This would also induce a degree of nervousness, and might well spend entire voyage loitering by Muster Station. Should never have watched The Poisedon thingy film. Would not want to Turn Turtle.

Back home have discovered Two has been hiding packets of Cafe Noir biscuits from me. Saw him nibbling one surreptitiously and when remarked on it, he sheepishly admitted to having two packets in Places of Concealment. Well honestly.

Today local retired fireman and lady wife are arriving to paint outside of house. Only found this out yesterday when he phoned to say was starting job today. Asked if anyone would be in, or should they bring flasks. Deduce from this that Many Cups of Tea will be required. Doubt however if the Cafe Noir will be putting in an appearance. Can't find them.

Cock o the North

We have a cockerel living in the pub car-park, which is almost next door to us. He has apparently been rendered homeless by Heartless Farmer Bob, who cast him into the wilderness without hen, corn, or any apparent means of support. I have not been able to discover the crime of the cockerel, only that he has been thrown out of the coop, and left to fend for himself. Very Tall Next Door Neighbour has sort of adopted him, and for some bizarre reason has christened the hapless creature Elvis. As if he isn't suffering enough. He is a rather splendid specimen, gaily coloured, and given to crowing regularly throughout the daylight hours. I fear for Elvis, given the number of foxes around.

Two has noticed marked improvement in Bad Back. Although is still sitting bolt upright and wincing occasionally.

Two Tempts Providence

Two is still incapacitated. He made fatal mistake of driving to supermarket (through gritted teeth) and carrying shopping. Was determined to do so, as has Cabin Fever. Back now regressed to Sharp Pain on sitting, rising, and much else in between. Has I must admit become Quite Stoical, but is beginning to irritate me (quite a lot), as Cannot Settle and is forever hovering in various parts of room prior to agonising attempt to sit down. Last night he announced he would lie sideways on sofa in same manner as sleeps, and did so, whilst complaining could not hear telly properly through one ear. Has today decamped to dining room table, but cannot properly see telly from this distance. Is in short, Up Gum Tree. I repaired to bedroom where radio is, and am mercifully in hover free zone. Painted nails with polish that was present from Mad Sister at Christmas. Nails now dull pewter, which is not attractive. Whilst esconced in boudoir, applied liberal coating of Firming Up Lotion to sagging flesh. If it does what it says on the tin, I shall be able to notice Significant Improvement any day now. Chief objective is to Bring Arms Back, hopefully fit for public consumption. Failing this, shall spend summer Out Of Circulation. Am not summer person anyway, being pale and short on melanin.

Two, his back, and the Water Board

Is Tuesday morning and weather has reverted to temperatures we would expect for April. Has been 70 degrees recently and have bought New Summer Clothes on strength of this. Ah well. Two continues to Suffer Greatly, although reports Slight Improvement if doesn't move too quickly. No change there then. Water Board person knocked on door this morning announcing that there might be something wrong with the water. Having sunk several cups of coffee this morning, I immediately went into my default mode, jittery. He departed only to return with request to Test The Water. Apparently somebody down the road has reported brown flakes coming out of cold tap. I tried to control the quaver in my voice as I asked if it was safe to drink. Visions of being Rushed to Hospital and headlines 'Pensioner poisoned by pipes'. Water Board person reassured me as he ran cold tap, sniffed it and drank some. 'Tastes okay' he said, and proceeded to fill several little phials with samples, which he tested and pronounced 'normal readings'. Anxiety seeping from every pore, I persisted asking if it was safe to drink. He reassured me again, asking if I drank a lot of water. 'Oh gallons' I replied, scrutinising his face for any change of expression registering doubt, alarm, or indeed any concern at all. If we don't hear from him in a few days he announced, we can assume All is Well. This doesn't fill me with confidence. Am considering buying Bottled Water, Just In Case.

Two is not a happy bunny

Little postscript to previous blog. Somewhat unkindly I have just read it out to him, whereupon he began laughing, shrieked in agony, and advanced upon me (albeit slowly) with murderous intent. Am signing off now before am felled by lurching person.

Two struggles on

Is Thursday and Two is still severely incapacitated by Bad Back. He is once again prone on sofa, and is adding new expressions of anguish to his already considerable repertoire. The latest is best described thus; long-drawn out groan of agony, as in 'arrrgh, arrrgh, arrgh', followed by highly impressive interpretation of tetanic spasm, complete with horrible rictus expression, in manner reminiscent of one who has imbibed strychnine. ( I watch a lot of Miss Marple). Occasionally Two suffers Major Twinge whilst standing, during which he somewhat unnervingly fixes me with gimlet eye and baleful glare, as if is my fault. Feel compelled to adopt expression of extreme concern and proffer help, which is rejected with irritable wave of hand. He has just levered himself upright and is standing more or less upright, gazing vacantly around room. 'What are you looking for' I venture. I can almost see his mind wavering about like a piece of cobweb. 'I don't know' he admits, and with Huge Sigh, lowers himself gingerly back onto sofa. Cue Long Drawn Out Groan of Agony, and wait for it............yes- here comes the Piece de Resistance- The Horrible Horrible Tetanic Spasm with Rictus. Must find contact number for Producer of Miss Marple.

Two is Laid Low

Is lovely sunny Wednesday. Two is lying prone on sofa suffering (loudly) with bad back. He put it out yesterday morning, whilst apparently attempting some strange acrobatic feat in bathroom involving putting foot onto wash-basin. Balletic warm-up prior to swift jette and pirouette? No. In order to apply liberal coating Aqueous Cream. Better I feel to have utilised edge of bath, is considerably lower. Anyway, is reduced to near immobility, any attempt at movement elicits loud Squeal of Agony followed by many many expletives of the four letter variety. On bright side, now have Two At My Mercy. Am severely tempted to remind him of many times have put own back out, and accusations of Being A Drama Queen. He is continually bleating that he can't understand How It Happened, has not done anything unusual, indeed is regularly to be found with foot on wash-basin. The bathroom has attacked him twice now. Last week he threw away the shower cleaner (without prior consultation) claiming the residue had run down into shower tray and inflicted Extremely Large Red Pimples on feet. Well honestly. Have just purchased fresh supply shower cleaner which will hide and continue to use. Won't be able to shower for some time now anyway, as In Agony. I put his socks on today (fighting queasiness) as cannot reach feet, and can report absolutely no evidence of afore-mentioned pustules.

Through the wall, loudly

I am in bed, quietly reading and minding my own beeswax. Suddenly from next door, a woman's voice, (presumably wife of The Lofty One), shouts 'I'm still your wife, even though we are getting divorced'. That was all. Intriguing. Manage to conquer dastardly impulse to fetch glass and listen through wall. Two has re-commenced driving, having received the all-clear from the neurologist, and leapt into action immediately. Disappeared for some hours, and returned home with bag of bird-seed and some groceries. Apparently is like riding bike, even after whole year, found driving came quite naturally. Am greatly relieved as Takes Onus off Me. I fully intend to Tut, and do Sharp Intakes of Breath when I venture out in passenger seat. Have decided need to whittle out wardrobe. as can find nothing, and is nightmare of squashed clothes and cantankerous coat hangers. My favourite male singer due at pub Friday and Saturday, so am looking forward to this. Need to Dig Out something nice to wear.

What's in a name?

Reluctant as I am to reveal my true identity to the legions following my blog (ahem), I am about to reveal that I am in fact married to Mr Two Hardy, and was therefore extremely affronted to receive a communication the other day addressed to self, as Mrs Hary. I will freely admit to the following; I am too thin, too jittery, too neurotic, too self-effacing sometimes, but I am NOT, and never have been, hirsute. There, got that off my chest along with the hair.

Has been fairly productive day. Have cleaned kitchen sink, hoovered, showered, annointed self with Skin Firming Cream, eaten requisite number calories, fetched Two from bus-stop after solitary expedition to local town for (ahem again) haircut. Has had usual cut, Vulpine. Have replied to e-mail from son and heir who was enquiring as to whether I had Put On Weight as could still not be seen from Space. Having explained Fattening Up Diet to him, received reply should perhaps Eat Some Fruit. Seems this might be counter-productive as need to retain food in system in order to Lay Down Layer of Fat, not rush same pell-mell through system. Has point though. Shall eat banana.

More leaping about

Saturday night at pub exceeded expectations, singer Vicki pulled in an Enormous Crowd, the place was heaving. I bravely (some may say foolishly) decided to wear 3" heels, which can be quite inhibiting if one is required to Leap About in manner of elderly gazelle. I was standing tapping my foot to the music when a guy I vaguely know, name of Bjorn, came up and announced he had seen me dance before, and would I care to tread a measure with him? He then escorted me to the Very Front where Vicki was belting out a rock number, and proceeded to twirl me round in a very energetic and innovative jive. He had all the moves, although he kept trying to spin me round with what seemed to be the wrong arm. I asked him if he was left-handed. No, he replied, I am Norwiegan (cannot spell this word). Anyway he comes from Norway. I did my best to keep up with his Scandinavian joie de vivre, but was horribly worried he might send me spinning like a top out of the door and half-way across the car-park. Finally it was over to my (and his) great relief. Spent rest of evening skulking behind clumps of people in case he decided to pounce again.

Arise Sir Bill!

High jinx at pub last night. Met Wife of Bill, hitherto unseen and generally considered to be Tragic Pub Widow, as Bill fully paid up member of The Late Crew on nightly basis. Mrs Bill is a hoot, very lively and very funny. After sinking several vodka and limes, she instigated experiment to levitate one of The Late Crew by dint of several people pressing down hard on victims head, then raising them up using only one thumb and finger. Hard to explain but you get the drift. Volunteers were surprisingly not forthcoming, and so the hapless and somewhat drunk Bill was pressed into service. Sitting on chair in middle of floor, he submitted to four hefty blokes pressing their hands down onto his head, and not I have to say, in very gentle way. Just when it seemed his head would disappear into his neck, Mrs B gave the command 'lift', thumbs and fingers were applied to various strategic points, and Bill rose a very wobbly inch, before landing back on stool with Dull Thud. Determined to Make This Work, Mrs Bill decreed a second attempt should be made, this time with Much More Pressure to head of hapless Bill. This time he did indeed rise a little higher- but the end result was the same-except the thud of his re-entry a little heavier. I can't help wondering if the whole episode was a sort of revenge by Mrs Bill on errant husband. Had she succeeded, he could still be hovering somewhere above the bar, having his pints passed up to him. I fear this would have been Bill's idea of heaven.

Gold Cup Day

Yes- is Gold Cup Day at Cheltenham and Two cannot be prised from TV coverage. He readily agreed to major concession, that I should Go To Supermarket On Own!!! How liberating! How merrily I skipped up and down the aisles, secure in knowledge I didn't have to locate Two, who is more than capable of spending five minutes reading the back of a packet of dried fruit. Mercifully I was not required to purchase fresh fish, as would almost certainly have bought wrong size/colour/species etc. With something approaching jubilation I shopped, paid, exited, and returned home in half the time it normally takes. Two was still glued to Cheltenham when I staggered to front door with bursting carrier-bags. Is hour later, and is still Glued to TV.

Have purchased More Anti-Wrinkle Cream in faint hope might erase ever more crinkles appearing on face. Accept is inevitable at my vast age will not eradicate all wrinkles, but game to the last I will Give It a Go. I am after all, Worth It.

A Deluge of Duvets

Eek! Two has changed his duvet cover yet again. Bright pink one with matching pillowcases has vanished and the landing sofa bed is positively vibrating with virulently striped number, again with matching pillowcases. Is giving me visual disturbance. And where pray has Bright Pink one gone? Is possibly lurking in washing machine.

Is last day but one of the Cheltenham Festival. Is early morning, Two is watching The Morning Line and fiddling with extraordinary amount of information on lap-top. Has not yet managed to back a winner, which given the vast amount of time and effort he expends, seems quite tragic. Think may search out duvet cover emblazoned with hooves, tails, and flying manes.

Must Pull Self Together and escape this relentless equine activity. May go to shops.

Accidentally published prematurely

Sorry about that. Didn't mean last post to end so soon . Was about to mention think am gradually Putting on Weight. Possibly. Two informed me I didn't look Quite So Gaunt. Am consuming bowl porridge every morning, made with full cream milk and festooned with sugar. Lunch is in manner of snack- but cheese is good. Evening meal and pudding to complete days calorie intake. I am trying.

Two appears to have purchased yet another duvet cover, this time in brightest pink imaginable, with matching pillow cases. Is quite startling. Have not yet found matching pink negligee, but watch this space. Am positively itching to go on retail therapy expedition, but reluctant to purchase clothes as size is problem. Will Hold back and concentrate on trying to reclaim sagging skin. Have gone into bold by mistake, is perennial problem. Think may wash hair soon with special thickening shampoo as recommended by daughter-in-law in Geneva. I hope it likes a challenge. My locks are getting sparser and the colour can best be described as brindle.

Glum and Glummer

Not only are the days dominated by Horse Racing at the Cheltenham Festival, (whoopy doo), but is like November outside. As it was yesterday. Foggy, gloomy, murky- and all adjectives relating thereto. Has just dawned on self that once Cheltenham is over, we still have Glorious Goodwood to look forward to. And so on . Think will Have Little Snooze this afternoon with Radio 4 playing softly in background.

Is Cheltenham Gawd help us

Two is in state of High Excitement, which is an annual event due to the advent of Cheltenham Week. This apparently is a High Spot of the horse racing calendar, and Two has been crouched even more fervently over his lap-top, examining a host of horsey factors relating to C.W. He will be completely incommunicado from tomorrow onwards, culminating in Gold Cup Day, when he will be incoherent with joy. I can barely contain myself. Have spent today dabbling in Little Light Housework, cleaning of windows (inside only), and attacking shower cubicle with Willit Bang- (always a concern as highly volatile product). It did however remove various nasty stains in grouting. Actually removed some of grouting as well. Polished painting of fox in living room, (Liam/Samantha), and as anticipated the Spring sunshine revealed Many Smears when had finished. Am not Good At Cleaning. Cannot understand why. Maybe have faulty gene.

Am greatly looking forward to Saturday at pub, as favourite girl singer Vicki performing. Saw her husband whilst Down South, although didn't speak, just exchanged startled looks recognition.
May have mentioned this before, but very strange coincidence indeed. Hmmm.

Eating for England

Is Thursday and quest to pile on the pounds continues. Have become thin in manner of matchstick woman and is not flattering. Legs are liable to snap and have developed revolting folds loose skin which need Plumping Out. Have consulted Google and appears avacado pears rich source fat (in a good way). Two returned from supermarket with glum news there are none to be found. Instead brought home vast quantities chocolate. Am valiantly stuffing self with high calorie foods and will probably have cardiac arrest as arteries under assault. Is tricky. Loss of weight probably stress related, so am telling self to Remain Calm and Not To Worry. Two as always impervious to stress, is showing signs of Beer Belly, which is odd given he doesn't drink beer. Could be build-up of haddock I suppose. My sister swears she sent me some paperwork relating to Mum's estate, but no sign of same yet. Have strong suspicion that sister in usual befuddled state has eaten envelope and posted her dinner to me. May sound bizarre, but highly probable. Am hoping is at least high in calories.

Sad time

Have returned home, after very sad few weeks down South. Mum passed away on February 7th. Can't bring myself to write about this yet, maybe as time goes on it will be easier. Suffice to say I have never seen anyone die before, and it had a profound effect on me.

Am repeating self

Apologies for repeating tale of Two, The Great Itch, and new medication. Am obviously suffering short-term memory loss. Is not surprising.

Two has another prescription

Yes, believe it or not, Two has yet another free/gratis and improbably large tube of medication to relieve The Great Itch. Blood tests came back entirely normal, and doctor truly foxed. Today he is not itching. Think presence of large tube of cream has had psychological effect. Apparently all these embrocations he smears so liberally on himself, cause thinning of the skin. Will soon be completely transparent I suppose, which rather flies in face of personality traits.

Went to Buxton yesterday on own, and marvelled at beautiful scenery en route. Is in the High Peak District and was freezing cold, but has, wait for it, a WAITROSE. Road to Buxton apparently second most dangerous road in England, has high fatality rate for motor cyclists, as bendy in manner of race-track.

My Mum very poorly, so am going down South in next couple of days.

At the car-wash

Is Monday and Two has an appointment to see his long suffering doctor. Blood tests came back normal and guess what? We have another prescription for anti-itch cream. I shall be forced to move out soon in order to make room for the pharmacy which is steadily encroaching upon me. We then went to supermarket where I abandoned Two and his trolley as he stood clucking vacantly and trying to remember what was needed. Could see would probably throw myself to floor and scream if forced to watch Two's very slow mental processes grind into action. Repaired to car and smoked cigarette to calm self down. Waited a considerable time for Two, who reappeared and announced we needed to go to car-wash. Had to agree as headlamps sporting moss. Car-wash maintenance man was parked in front of us, but we got the green light to proceed. Sadly, we failed to get the red-light once inside car-wash, and Two was becoming very agitated. I baled out as this point leaving Two at the controls. Back and forth he shunted, teeth bared in frustration. Car wash maintenance man approached to assist and Two opened window to receive instructions. Eventually he was in position and I gesticulated to Close The Window. Two snarled something unrepeatable at me, and disappeared beneath giant green cotton wool bud. I almost hoped he had forgotten to close window. Two appeared and re-appeared several times from behind cataracts of water and whirling cotton wool buds. I must say he looked extremely glum, but emerged unscathed.

More shopping, and assorted news

Been shopping with Two who has developed a serious obsession with bed-linen. Bought himself new duvet and searched diligently for a yellow sheet in order to colour co-ordinate his bed. Mercifully yellow is not a colour favoured by sheet manufacturers, and I left him to it. Only tat left in sales, so came home empty-handed apart from 4 DVDs. Is now Sunday morning, very dark, windy, and heavy rainfall predicted for this afternoon. Ho hum. Went to pub last night, which was deserted apart from a few game old baby boomers doing the Shadows Walk to music from CD player. Very sad. Think pub possibly in trouble. No live entertainment Saturday night, and general air of Glumness. Thought briefly of offering services as Poet in Residence, but feel would not appeal to regulars. Two has to go to doctors tomorrow for blood test results. They are leaving no stone unturned to discover cause of Great Itch. Think Two possibly hypochondriac as spends ever more time at doctors collecting ever more prescriptions. Is at moment putting myriad medications into pill dispenser, which he quite enjoys.

Heard alarming story last night from Geoff who lives in large isolated house nearby. Had mouse in toaster, which had evidently been there for some time judging by amount of droppings in tray. Regretfully have to report that Geoff emptied tray of droppings and carried on using toaster. Felt slightly sick when told this. Note to self: should ever be invited to Geoff's house again, refuse any offer of hot buttered toast.

Wringing of the withers

Ah yes. I love a sad film. I really do. So it seems does Two. We were watching Out of Africa this afternoon (another Christmas pressie). Robert Redford, Meryl Streep the Weep, and 'I had a farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngombi Hills' ( I think those are the hills). I am stretched out on sofa nearest telly the better to focus, when at Particularly Poignant Moment, I hear snuffling from other sofa. Own eyes are pricking with tears, but have seen film many times and emotional compassion somewhat curbed. Snuffles continue from other sofa, followed by loud blowing of nose. As another character film bravely tells Redford 'my water has turned black', hear Two gulp. Has own water turned black? Character duly dies of said fever and I risk a look at Two, whose eyes are now swimming behind glasses. By end of film is positively blubbing. Can barely see to remove DVD. My mission going forward is therefore to locate weepiest movies available, and study Two in depth.

they shoot horses don't they?

Yes, title of blog reflects dance marathon at pub last Saturday. Two guitarists were playing, and they kept going without breaks until 1 a.m. Pub packed, and atmosphere similar to New Years Eve, even down to conga line appearing behind bar. Naturally I threw myself into the fray with scant regard for 65 years old body. Jived with huge enthusiasm and brio. Invented new and hitherto unseen twiddles, steps and pirouettes. Cannot resist the music. I fear the twist was a twiddle too far, as have had muscle pain all over body since then. Plus back is sending out sharp reminders on regular basis. Is possibly deeply affronted at liberties taken, as is doing its best to recover from previous injury when Fell Into The Void in bedroom.

Think East-Enders script writers have really lost the plot. Last night they attempted duologue between two minor female characters, which sounded like something from Little Britain. All this in middle of dire episode featuring funeral of baby. Is surreal.

Is Saturday

Is Saturday morning and Two is still deep in land of Nod, resplendent under new duvet of vivid turquoise with matching pillow. Was quite a shock when I went upstairs yesterday afternoon and discovered sea of turquoise on landing. (Two sleeps on landing on sofa bed). As predicted in previous blog, he asked me whether there was a clothing recycling bin in car-park. There is, and as I suspected, he is planning to donate large sections of his wardrobe to be recycled or (God forbid) sent to the Third World. Bobbly jumpers , Primark socks, gay chequered shirts and all. I imagine the Third World will probably send them back. I would.

More and more debate about controversial story-line in Very Gloomy Eastenders. Seems they may bring to an end, as is fuelling so much anger, although predictably there is no change in the ratings.

Am seriously considering purchase of Large Telescope and taking up star-gazing. Can probably do it from car-park, and rather fancy setting up tripod in professional manner, whirring telescope round in manner of Tank Commander in turret. May become astro-physicist in fact.

Two hits the sales

Update on activities pertaining to Two, as quite forgot to mention he went shopping yesterday, and evidently became over-excited in process. Returned home laden with a great many carrier-bags as Found Bargains Impossible To Resist. Thus we now have become overladen with duvet covers in various colours/designs, sheets and pillowcases. Storage space being problematical here, am wondering where in God's name am going to store said purchases. Has also purchased more shirts reminiscent of styles favoured by lumberjacks. Have decided need to monitor Two closely as is liable to throw away perfectly good bed linen already in service in favour of new purchases. Mercifully did not venture into Primark, as has absolutely no self control in this emporium, and will behave with reckless disregard to state of Disposable Income. I draw your attention to Bulging Sock Drawer, ditto Towering T-Shirt drawer, ditto A Great Many Cardigans festooned with bobbles. Forgot to mention Two also had head sharpened whilst out shopping. Usually looks like criminal after haircutting experience, but is not quite as severe as usual.

Gritters now going past at regular intervals, but according to weather forecast, is not going to last. Am now off to try and find homes for new bed linen, but am not optimistic.

New Years Eve etc

Saw in 2011 at pub. Was similar to being sardine in tin, but managed to dance with shoulders in as animated manner as possible. Youngest daughter managed to clear space to perform routine from Grease to considerable acclaim, and open-mouthed admiration from farming community. Two remained insitu for midnight, have vision of him being manipulated in manner of puppet by youngest daughter as song 'Reach for the Stars' was belting out. Was memorable sight. Was memorable evening all round, have been informed by landlady people were dancing in road. Was exhausted next day, but youngest daughter and self walked down to village, (very steep hill), and managed to return without me suffering cardiac arrest en route. This in order to Blow Away the Cobwebs. Afraid own cobwebs proved difficult to budge as spent most of return trek sitting on drystone walls, gasping and declaring intention of staying there until transport arrived. Is now 7th Jan and have woken up to snow. Probably time to press green wellies into service again, but will inevitably skitter about in manner of Bambi. Watched film The Fly (Christmas pressie), and was amused to observe Two shuddering fastidiously. Strange what offends him in view of...........(veil still drawn)

Home At Last

Have returned home with youngest daughter in time for New Years Eve celebration at pub. Am exhausted after two weeks in company of Sister Who Cleans obsessively. Is impossible to help as is Whirling Dervish and has impossibly high standards. Glasses, cups, plates etc. are whisked away, washed-up and returned to cupboards at speed of light. Bemused family members are wandering around looking for Drink They Put Down. Sister rarely relaxes, only identifiable as agitated blur whizzing past. Mum very frail now, and quite depressed I think. Is 94, and is remarkably alert mentally. Still finishes Telegraph Crossword every day. Was upset when I left, got very emotional, which is unlike her. Wish I lived nearer. Sister reportedly having endoscopy in near future as has ulcer, which will come as no surprise. Is burping for England. Also has gallstones. All in all, apart from Mum, Am Glad To Be Home.