Only 2 sleeps to go

Industrial toe nail clippers are ready.  Veet hair removal cream stands staring at me, ready to attack the forest of doom and those little crevices that is home to the nest of curliness.  Misty my faithful yet crusty cat senses we are going away.  Her deep stench morning purr has been accompanied by a 360 degree turn unto which she places her ass on my torso and rubs.  I feel abused and brush her off roughly.  Carolyn snores rhythmically, deeply, and wetly.  – I have no witness.

On Tuesday she (Misty) vomits on my duvet, on my pillow and on the carpet.

On Wednesday the girls are over excited, each day they ask the same question. How many sleeps to go.  I tell them. They don’t fecking understand, so they ask again, and again.  For Fucks Sake – we go on ruddy Sunday.  Today it is ruddy Wednesday. Hold out your ruddy fingers and ruddy count.  (I say this coldly in my head).

On Thursday evening I discover the lice.  Crawling in their hair. The screams could be heard in Reading as I run the metal lice comb through their red locks trying to comb out the little feckers.  Glass in one hand, comb in the other, I ran the metal combs down every strand. Sweat pouring down my cheeks, Misty rubbing her ass along my ankles, and the girls sobbing.

At around 9pm I start to itch. Holy Fuck, I have an appointment with Marc Antoni hairdressers at 09.30am on Friday – surely not?

At 10pm I was pouring the left over lice shampoo into my hair. It stunk.  I cursed the metal comb and groaned as I pulled it through my thick hair, in the hope it would reveal dead lice.  It revealed hair, lots of it.  I combed and combed until my scalp hurt. Please God don’t let me have lice.

I turned in at 11pm. Misty my faithful yet crusty cat was already curled up next to Carolyn’s head. I purposely jumped in and slammed my head on my pillow – Misty flew up and meowed angrily. Carolyn grunted and then nothing.

I could feel a pointy finger on my head at 6am, followed by the sound of slurping and children’s television. Hurrah – my day has fecking started! My head hurt, my hair stunk, and my stomach felt odd. Misty trotted in and jumped on the bed, with a glint in her eye she jumped onto my shoulder and meow purred into my face. The smell of Gourmet Duck in Jelly hit my nostrils like a hammer and I retched as I pushed her away.

As I sat in Marc Antoni my stomach was not good.  It was one of those, do I need a number two or a good fart moment.  I did not risk either.  My head still hurt and my scalp itched.  Please Please don’t let ‘skinny Nikki with the dodgy eyebrows’ find lice. My head thumped, as did my bottom,.

The coffee sent my stomach into spasms and as I had a long wait for my colour I asked where the toilets were. They’ve had work done to the salon and I assumed they had new toilets built.  Alas not, it was the same small windowless toilet situated smack bang in the middle of the ruddy salon.

As we call it in our family, I POP POPPED for England. No window. No matchsticks. No air freshener. I jumped from leg to leg – what to do, how I can camouflage this most disgusting smell.  Somebody tried the door and I gasped. I did what I’ve not one since I was a kid in school – I began to waft the smell away – I looked like Kate Bush dancing to Wuthering ruddy Heights.  In desperation I covered my hands in liquid soap and then put on the hand dryer in the hope the dryer would waft the smell of soap around this small room.  I legged it. Head held down. Florid. To my seat and did not look up until I was done.

Job done. And no nits (to my knowledge).

So we leave on Sunday – our annual trip to sunny Spain where I sip my cool beer and swim in the pool of piss.  The POP as I call it is the children’s pool – where I have to stand idly and make small talk to Mothers  about their kids.   I hate the Pool of Piss, I have no time for  small talk, and I rarely like other children apart from those I know.  And to top it all, I hate having to see my own belly protruding over my antique bikini bottom.   But on the bright side, the POP is very close to the beach bar, when one can get a chilled beer.

Only 2 sleeps to go

Adios.

 

Olive oil ears

You have a build up of hard wax in your ears said the nurse at the surgery. You need an irrigation! To prepare myself for this intrusion I purchased a dropper as I was informed by the rather florid nurse with the broken capillaries in her cheek that I was to soften the wax by dropping olive oil into my ears night and day for a week before my irrigation. Last night I carefully poured oil into my dropper. And onto the floor. Misty my faithful yet crusty cat appeared from nowhere and sniffed the oil. She had a cobweb on her ass and I could smell something odd. I ignored her and took my dropper and instruction sheet upstairs. I placed a towel over my pillow and asked Carolyn to carefully drop the oil into my left ear. I felt it trickle down my cheek as my hearing left me and was replaced by a squelchy muffled feeling. Misty shoved her wet nose into my ear and I could just hear the purr and sniff from her foul smelling breath! I had to lie on my side for ten ruddy minutes! I lay motionless. Staring at carolyn reading. Wondering what drink to have on Sunday when my dry January ends. I could feel misty behind my head. I could still smell something odd. I farted. I turned around and Carolyn dropped the oil into my other ear. I felt the oil enter my hole and then my hearing became fuzzy. Again I lay motionless. Watching the wall. Misty tried to sniff my ear again. I slowly lifted my arm and swiped her away. I could feel oil on my cheek. I hate this!!

This morning I have awoken to find oil in my hair. I am deaf in one ear. My head is pounding. I stink of extra ruddy Virgin olive oil. Misty my faithful yet crusty cat left me a small frozen turd that had stuck to her tail last night. It was found near to my pillow.

One ruddy week of this! Nooooooooooooo!!!

How Ruddy Dare You.

As misty my faithful yet crusty cat purrs deeply upon my thigh, her nose dribble gently lengthens until it finally falls onto my clean duvet like a raindrop of snot! Slippery and wet I clean her mess and sip my tea. My girls are overcome with excitement. They sing jingle bells loudly. Today we are off to the Oxford Wildlife Park. We shall spend the day outside in the cold looking at animals. I’m beside myself with delight. Ofcourse I don’t want to be in a warm pub, drinking wine with friends. How ruddy dare you for suggesting such a thing. How ruddy dare you. Goodbye.

Merry Christmas

Christmas Day Morning (belated)

As I sit alone in a sea of cardboard and wrapping paper the gentle breeze of Misty my faithful yet crusty cat’s stench breath assaults my nostrils and forces a quick but lethal sneeze! As I leap from the sofa clutching my front bottom and cursing loudly I trip on my Ped Egg hard skin remover! It’s not even 10am yet chaos surrounds me. Misty stinks. Carolyn is ill and I am in need of a Bloody Mary. I love this life! Merry Christmas darlings xxxx

That Shrew Smells like Pooh!

The stench in my bedroom had gradually worsened. I flicked a pair of Carolyn’s socks onto the bed, they landed on misty my faithful yet crusty cat. She did not move. The socks were safe. The girls walked in for their story and with cupped hands over their florid faces, they ran out in tears. Our bedroom stunk. With windows wide open I pulled open drawers, slid under the bed and checked our panty drawer. Still no clue. On all fours with my nostril to the carpet I covered every inch of the floor, sniffing nuggets of shit from Misty and sneezing so loudly my lady trickle nearly became a tsunami. And then as I neared Carolyn’s side of the bed the stench heightened. With quivering nostrils and a damp gusset I moved to her pillow and to her bed side cabinet. I pulled it out and to my surprise found a dead shrew! As I turned slowly towards Misty mouthing obscenities she cantered out of our room and downstairs. Ruddy cat.

On the Buses – the 800 to be precise

I had no car today. And so at 4.10pm I decided to close shop and hitch a ride on a bus. I’ve not been on a bus for some time now and felt an urge of excitement in my lower regions as I headed towards a bus stop. According to my in depth research, to reach Henley upon Thames one should hail a bus to Friar Street where one dismounts and awaits the number 800 to High Wycombe, via Henley upon Thames. What fun this would be I chuckled as I headed to the bus stop. How wrong was I?

The bus stop was outside the Royal Berkshire hospital off London Road. I approached with caution as I noticed a couple of elderly men with sticks arguing with each other. Further down the pavement a young girl with a brace of kids, a bun perched on her head, tattoos across her cleavage and a stud so big in her tongue she sounded deaf, was screaming obscenities at her children. A woman in her dressing gown and a mobile drip was lighting a fag. An Indian man sat in the bus stop. He had unfortunate long goofy teeth and reminded me of a bottle opener. Whilst he talked he dribbled. It was fascinating to watch but I realised it was not Victorian times, and I was not in an asylum. I sat down and played solitaire waiting for my bus. Moments later the bus arrived. I paid my £1.20 and made my way to a seat by the window.

I walked to my seat and could feel a bus full of beady eyes upon me. I sucked my extra strong mint and sat down. As I breathed in, relieved I was on the bus, the stench of body odour hit me like a sledge hammer. I could not work out where it came from but it was strong, it was putrid, and it was making its way up my nostrils. I placed my hand over my nose but the smell infiltrated my nostrils and before long I felt the urge to vomit on the head of the woman seated in front of me. I found her hair rather upsetting. But that aside I managed to contain my vomit and people watch. My people watching was abruptly stopped when a woman sat beside me and opened a packet of cheese and onion crisps. I looked at her for a second and we caught each other’s eye. I smiled sickly. As did she. I could see the damp crisps stuck to the front of her teeth and the subtle smell of onions on her breath and felt the urge to throw again. I turned away quickly and stared out of the window.

The bus stops were lined up near the back of M&S and there was hundreds of them. I had no idea which bus stop was mine, and the buses that did stop all went to ruddy Calcot! Ruddy Calcot, where the feck is ruddy Calcot? There was no number 800 to be seen. I was told I should walk to the Apex Plaza which is where the 800 bus stops. I power walked around the corner and as I tried to find my phone in my deep bag I tripped and landed on my hands and knees. Fuck I hissed. I did an Exorcist 360 of the head, made sure nobody saw me fall, wiped myself down and continued my journey.

I found the bus stop outside the Plaza. I sat upon a wall away from the bus stop and prayed for a number 800 to take me home. Or for somebody I may know to drive past and see me, and stop, and take me home. Alas none of the above happened. I thought about grabbing a taxi, but decided to give it another few minutes. Just in case the bus arrived.
Opposite where I sat was the Corn Exchange. Two drunken men were seated outside staring at us waiting for our buses and shouting abuse. I tried not to stare and instead thought about my recent trip to Athens with my friends Lou, Sue and Rachel. I was brought back to reality when a young man arrived and stood to my right. I was just thinking to myself how nice he looked in his suit when he started to make the most disgusting gurgling noises as he tried to clear his throat. He cared not for me perched beside him on the wall but continued to gurgle and spit green phlegm onto the pavement in front of me. I felt a gag but held it back. Bus after ruddy fecking bus stopped and moved on. Not one number 800 bus to be seen. By now it was gone 5.20 and I was seriously pissed off. A non-English woman had appeared to my left and kept catching my eye and grinning at me. A bus would stop and go and she would still be standing there, looking at me. I was beginning to feel a little worried when all of a sudden I saw the bus – on the other side of the ruddy road! I cursed and quickly grabbed my bag and legged it over the road. But I was too late, the bus moved on. The two drunken men sitting outside of the Corn Exchange were laughing. And the strange woman across the road was waving at me. I felt the urge to deck her. I decided this was no adventure, I was going to grab a taxi. But then the bus pulled up on the other side of the road, where I had been waiting! I sprinted over the road, passed the weirdo woman and onto the bus. Full of excitement a lady dribble popped out and caught me by surprise.

I had no change. I had no idea how much the journey would cost and I had no idea the driver was deaf and dumb. But he was. I tapped on his window and said I wanted a single to Henley on Thames. He said something back that I could not decipher. I said again I would like a single ticket to HENLEY ON THAMES. He answered something I could not decipher. I started to ask again but he pointed to a price and I understood this to be £4.70. I paid and sat as close to the door as possible.

I felt her eyes upon me as I walked to my seat. She had short red hair and bulbous eyes that did not move from me. The bus started to move and still she stared at me. Clearly she was a nutter. And she was on my ruddy bus. This was not a good start to my journey. I noticed whenever somebody got on or off the bus she would say hello or goodbye. But would then return to stare at me in a very sinister way. I slowed pulled out my packet of mints and placed one in my mouth. I could not outstare her so instead started to play candy crush.

The bus pulled out and I had hoped for a quick sprint down the Henley Road and then home. But no, it turned towards Caversham and stopped every 5 minutes. That woman was still looking at me and the stop start motion of the bus was beginning to make me queasy again. It reminded me a little of Carolyn’s driving. As the bus drove through Caversham and past the Standard Tandoori I stared out of my window and was amazed to see me old mate Sarah Caffrey in a car just driving out of her road. I slapped my hand on the window of the bus hoping she would see me and mouthed GET ME OFF!! But she did not see me. I thought about jumping off at the next stop in the hope she would be behind us and she could drive me home, but I didn’t risk it. I continued candy crush. The nutter had moved her gaze elsewhere and I began to relax a little. Near Binfield Heath she got off. As she walked passed my window I gave her my most horrid glare and then urged the driver to legit!

A short haired man in a track suit and stinking of Joop sat next door to me. My nostrils moved as I tried not to sneeze. I held it in, but then suddenly the sneeze appeared and I lost my mint onto the floor. The man next to me grinned as I kicked the mint under the seat in front of me. I returned to my phone and ignored him.

This journey was taking forever. We eventually drove through Shiplake and finally the Reading Road. As we approached the Tesco roundabout I heard a little buzzer and then a sign to say the bus was stopping. And the bus did stop. I stood up and asked the driver if the bus stopped further along the reading road. He grunted in a deaf kind of way. I sat again and an old man asked me if he should press the buzzer. Having no idea what he was talking about I said yes. The bus travelled another 100 yards and then stopped. All eyes were upon me. I had no choice but to get off the bus even though it was a good walk back to my house. I thanked the driver. And the old man. I disembarked.

It was 6.15pm. I had been on buses for over 2 hours. I’d eaten a whole packet of extra strong mints. My head ached and I the smell of cheese and onion was embedded in my nostrils. I tried hard not to grab my front bottom as the urge to pee my pants was strong.
At 6.28 I put the key in the keyhole. Misty my faithful yet crusty cat came to greet me. With her tail in the air she rubbed her bottom along my ankles and purred loudly. I kicked her off and found the girls in the kitchen. They were high on chocolate and dancing on chairs. I fell onto the sofa and thanked the almighty I had made it home. In one piece.

As I sipped my claret I relayed my traumatic journey home to Carolyn. She scoffed at my dilemma and suggested I was a ponce. Misty once again found me and jumped onto my belly. My stroking her helped me to unwind a little and before long I was on my second glass having forgotten my journey.

After an evening of stroking my pussy and drinking wine I decided to hit the deck. I was shattered. I was traumatised. I felt violated and a little cruel about giggling at the Indian bottle opener. I felt the need to sneeze and itched my nostril. It was then I realised I had cat shit on my hands.

Misty you little fucker!!

I’m not in the ruddy mood

 

At 05.30am I was awoken by my ginger ninjas. They screeched and wailed in unison from their bedroom like banshees – I joined them screaming in pain as I found, to my despair, my left eyelid was stuck shut!! I tried to open it slowly but the pain was immense. I swore loudly. And then again. I believe this glue eye is a casualty of the menopause. Along with hot flushes, headaches, short fuse, dryness between your garden of Eden and a whole history of other ailments I won’t go into as it just makes me so ruddy angry!! I sprayed my eye with some special liquid I had purchased from Boots, it had cost me £7 ruddy quid, and continued to try and prise open my eye. Vivien, aged 4, sat staring at me. Ruby, her twin sister ignored me. Misty my faithful yet crusty cat was kneading me violently, her purr deep, her breath foul, and her scabs falling. I flicked them onto the floor, managed to open my gluey left eye and sipped my tea. Vivien was still staring at me. She announced sadly and in a whisper I could barely hear that I was not her friend. I was too old. I hissed, kicked off the cat and went to my bathroom to read Diva. I heard Carolyn scream I’d been on the loo for fucking ages and she was now leaving for London. I was informed, rather rudely may I say, that I needed to dress the children, feed the children, brush their teeth and take them to nursery. I cursed her silently as the front door slammed and sighed heavily. I couldn’t even have a shit in peace these days! Peppa Pig had been replaced with My Little Pony. I could hear Viv & Ruby squealing with delight as they jumped up and down on my bed. I approached the room as Misty shot out like a bat out of hell, eyes wide, tail fluffed up. I went to grab Ruby and trod on one of the wet pull up nappies on the floor. My reptilian toes squelched in their urine and I found myself skidding. I stopped myself head butting Ruby and pulled her off the bed to dress her. 30 ruddy minutes later we are all dressed and ready. I stuffed toast in their mouth. Brushed hair. Brushed teeth. Tripped over Misty. Drop kicked them into the car. Started the car. Turned off the car. Dragged them both back into the house. Sat both on potties. Back to the car. In car and off to nursery we go. At 08.10 I am driving to work. The sky is blue and the day looks promising. And then I hit Reading! The start of the Festival brings in all kinds of people, strange hippy type children who have never heard of America, Cat Stevens or Mr Dylan. Yet they wear the t-shirts proudly. I narrowly missed a dirty looking man with dreadlocks and a vicious looking dog who decided to cross the road in front of me. I had to apply the brakes and as I drove around him I wound down the window and called him a fecking Plonker! Feeling rather nervous and adrenalin pumped I wound up the window and hit the accelerator. 100 yards along the road the traffic light hit red. I hit the deck and made out I was searching for something as the dreadlocked man I had just abused slowly approached the car. I fingered the dirt on the car floor slowly and then hurrah I found an old extra strong mint which I popped into my mouth whilst praying to the Almighty me dreadlock man didn’t recognise the car. When I emerged he was by my window rolling a fag. He looked at me as he licked the rizzla. The lights turned green and the car behind me was tooting. I looked at the man, grinned, hit the volume on the radio and sped away to the sound of the Nolan’s singing I’m in the mood for ruddy dancing. I did not look cool and felt a prat! But I was alive.
I spent the next 20 minutes trying to avoid festival revellers and screaming abuse to all that got in my way. I really did not like Reading at all.  And I dont like Woodley but thats another story altogether.

Link

I was saddened and shocked to read about Robin Williams this morning.  A talented actor & comedien taken far too early.    I recalled my Mork and Mindy days as I strolled through the doors of the Royal Berkshire Hospital to M&S to purchase my lunch.  On route I passed a family of heffers grazing by the cafe opposite the paper shop.  A large lady with a tight bun on her head made her look a little oriental and her younger sister, chronically obese, eating a packet of crisps and gulping Diet Coke.  I slowed down as I heard them sob into their food. They were clearly very distressed as they had just been informed that Robbie Williams had committed suicide!!  I stopped.  I walked up to them and as they ate their crisps, I informed them that it was not Robbie Williams who had died, but the very talented actor and comedien Robin Williams.  They continued chewing their food as they both looked at each other, and then at me.  One of the said WHAT?  I repeated what I had just said.  Again they eyeballed me as if I had just killed their pet Rottweiler.  And then they both said, Oh.  Turned around and ordered a packet of Quavers.  I continued my walk to M&S.

 

Fleas

Today I have hoovered the house, bleached the work tops.  Dropped flea ointment on the cats.  Found cat vomit on top of the fridge.  Sprayed flea repellant throughout the ruddy house.  Found misty my faithful yet crusty cat scratching her scabs and licking flea ointment.  The house stinks!  I am overcome with fumes and feel quite faint.  Is it too early for a snifter???

Day 7. Home alone with the Ninjas

Thunder and lightening. Ruddy ruddy frightening. That is all I can say. At silly o’clock both girls were awake. Misty my faithful yet crusty cat was upon me like a mountain goat, kneading furiously. Clearly rather scared. I lay motionless staring at the ceiling wanting to be anywhere but here. Every boom woke the girls. I was in and out of their room more times than Jolyon’s red wine consumption on a Sunday afternoon. Misty’s gum disease had worsened and the stench from her breath as she kneaded me made want to chuck. At early o’clock both girls screamed my name. The terror was acute, a near fatal wee drip occurred as I leapt from my bed into their room. As I threw myself into their room looking to fight off any fucker messing with my babies I was faced with my ninjas standing in their beds wanting out. I hissed a curse and steered them into my bed. As we lay in bed slurping milk, drinking tea, kneading belly I felt happy in myself knowing that Carolyn was home today. As I placed my arm around Vivien’s neck I stumbled upon a small hard stone, which on further inspection turned out to be the missing poo nugget from Misty’s ass!! Ruddy wonderful!! A fine ending to my week with the ninjas!!