Two out of three aint bad?

I’ve never been good with vomit or shit, or bogies come to think of it. It seems whatever protrudes from any orifice of one or both my children makes me retch.

Last week I helped with bath time whilst Carolyn popped out. As I lay on my bed urging both children (4 yr old twins) to sing loudly and frequently so I was confident neither had drowned, I sat bolt upright when Ruby stopped singing Let it Go and shrieked in horror. My toe nail clippers flew as I jumped off the bed and landed on my knees in a sea of reptilian toe nails. I could hear Vivien whimpering softly.

I flung myself into the bathroom to see Ruby standing in the bath, tears streaming down her face, pointing her little finger towards Vivien. Vivien sat in the bath looking at Ruby. In the water around her were various plastic toys and mermaids, Peppa Pig boats, balls, bubbles, and a dirty brown turd.

I was in shock and jolted back with my cupped hand upon my mouth. The dirty brown turd was floating alongside Grandpa Pig’s boat, but bits were breaking off and heading towards Ruby, who was shaking and pointing.

I tried to calm her down as best I could, I  hummed Jerusalem loudly and with meaning, I sang Its all about the Base, but to no avail. Misty my faithful yet crusty cat crept in to watch the commotion.  I threw a small box of panty pads at her and she darted out.  I grabbed Ruby by the shoulders and pulled her out. She was slippery and wet, I suddenly thought of an old Whitesnake song I used to love, but this was not the time.

Vivien was trying to push the turd away from her, but the waves from Ruby being pulled up directed the turd back to Vivien. I ran out of the bathroom with ruby under my armpits wrapped in a towel. She still had soap in her hair and dirt on her arms and face. I threw her onto the bed and sprinted back to the bathroom and stood still for a second as I surveyed the picture before me. Vivien sat surrounded by bath toys, a big brown turd, and a scattering of smaller turdettes that had broken away from the mother ship and were heading in Viv’s direction.

I jumped to the left, and then jumped to the right. I looked back and forth. I retched. A turdette had now touched Vivien. She screamed. I screamed. The cat meowed loudly from outside the bathroom.

I pulled out the plug, picked up Vivien and placed her on the carpet. I quickly grabbed a nappy bag and fished out the turd and large turdettes that had attached themselves to the dissolving mermaid, which had not fully dissolved, as it’s a cheap fucking toy from Tesco’s! I turned the nappy bag inside out and the turd fell into the toilet.

Vivien stood soaking in the bathroom as the water slowly disappeared down the plug hole. Small primary coloured plastic toys lay scattered on the bath, some housing small turdettes, others just covered in bubbles. I hosed down all the toys, put them in a plastic bag and binned the lot. I then cleaned the bath.

Viv I noticed had turned blue; she was freezing to death and shaking violently. I put her back in the bath and hosed her down as well. I then washed my own hands, twice, and swallowed the bit of sick that had risen to the back of my mouth.

As I lay on the bed, sniffing my fingers to make sure there was no turd lingering. Viv and Ru lay silently beside me, clean, dry, watching some weird blind girl called Melody and drinking their milk. I could see from the very corners of my eye that Ruby had her finger up her nose. In slow motion, I turned to face her just as she pulled out something so large it wrapped itself around her finger and stayed there. She pointed the finger to me and said, Mama, can you wipe this away please.

Carolyn walked in as I ran out with my cupped hand over my mouth, swallowing quickly and trying not to retch too loudly in her face.

I guzzled greedily from a bottle of Bordeaux that I had kept for cooking. I cared not.

A night of Pooh, bogies and very nearly some vomit!

Some say 2 out of 3 isn’t bad.

I say 2 out of 3 is a fucking disaster.

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.

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.

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???

Lunch at Royal Berkshire Hospital

My Lunch – Thursday 29^th May.

Ruddy ambulances everywhere I hissed as I crossed the road and walked into the Royal Berkshire Hospital. This is a great hospital. We are lucky to have it. But my ruddy God the day trippers who frequent these premises are odd. As I walked along the long corridor, my nostrils quivered at the strange smell and I became aware of the subtle beeping behind me. I jumped to the left as a mini moke drove past with a cluster of elderly geriatrics on board. One was swinging his plastered leg out of the side. I snarled at him and turned into the doorway and up the stairs. Trying not to touch the hand rails in case I catch a disease, I half walk, half trot, in a John Cleese kind of way until I reach the top. I push the door open and hear that familiar sound again. A sudden screech of tyres and there is the ruddy mini moke whizzing around the corner straight for me. I dodge it and walk on.  As I approach the dreaded information table I force myself to look away from them. 4 voluntary helpers sit there with a Joker style grin plastered on their face and watch as you walk past. If you make eye contact they stand up and ask if you are lost. They call me dear. Sometimes they pat me on the shoulder. I power walk past them. Eyes in front. I can see M&S in my sight but first I must walk through the stink café. This place is odd as it attracts clusters of rather large families. They sit around the small tables eating onion smelling food and crisps. They all drink diet coke. And they just watch the world go by. I strongly believe these families have day trips to the hospital just to watch. Just outside M&S is a small corner of chairs and tables, and again I find a cluster of families sitting, eating, drinking diet coke, and just watching. They look a little dazed. One man dribbles. Perhaps they are mentally ill. Mmmmm. I power walk past them and finally reach M&S. I walk in and am hit by the coolness of the room. I basket up and prepare my feast. Pitta, meat, salad, olives. As I ponder in front of the cheeseboard I am kicked from behind by a fuzzy red haired woman with piercing blue eyes sitting in an extra-large wheelchair. I turn violently but retract from hitting her with my bag of salad. For she is ill. Suddenly site seekers enter and I overhear them talking about how much cheaper it is to shop in Morrison’s. At that point I pay up and legit. Back down the long corridor, past the stink café of onion pasties and tourists. I hear the beep of the mini moke again and my head turns 360 degrees as I scout for the nutter driving the moke full of geriatrics. I power walk past the happy gits on Information and head down the stairs. At last, out of the electric doors and into Redlands Road. I am breathless but relieved to be out.  I walk past an elderly man in his striped pyjamas talking to a middle aged woman in her dressing gown. They are both holding a large drip on wheels, and have other plastic pipes feeding into their veins. They laugh and then cough violently as they drag deeply on their fags. I tut then cross the road and head to my office.   Until next week.

Swimming

 

I’m overcome with happiness. Today we are back at Trinity pool for swimming lessons. It’s a small pool, in a small room, with a temperature so high I sometimes feel quite faint. After consuming gallons of French last night along with my menopausal flushes and feelings of sudden urges to kill – I feel this morning could tip me over the edge.

The Bumble Bee and my Eartha Kitt

At precisely 06.47am this morning I sat upon my throne reading Closer magazine. The girls were drinking their milk, laying on my bed and watching Bubble Guppies or something similar. Misty my faithful yet crusty cat purred loudly as she licked her ass and snuggled up on my clean pillowcase. All was quiet. All was perfect. Until the queen ruddy bee flew in the bathroom window and in a distressed state started to buzz around my head. My high pitch scream caused Vivien to choke on her milk. Ruby also. They both started to scream hysterically. Misty came to my aid, but was ruddy useless. As I staggered across the carpet, crouching low, knickers around my ankles, Closer magazine in hand, trying to swipe the bee gently out of the window I did trip over Misty and landed on Vivien’s demonic looking dolly baby. As I hit the floor both girls came running in, snivelling, crying, and then staring in utter disbelief as their Mother lay flat on their dolly, knickers around ankles, magazine in hand. Misty continued to lick her ass loudly. I stood up and patted the girls on the head. Checked the room was free of bumbles and continued my morning eartha kitt. Those of you with good memories will remember something similar has happened to me before. Ruddy Bees!!

Today I went Swimming

A week has passed since my last swim. It was 8.30am and I felt good. The girls were downstairs having breakfast. Misty my faithful yet crusty cat was on my pillow, on her back, legs apart, snoring. I grabbed my speedo costume and skipped to the bathroom. The bright pink Peppa Pig, (horrendous piece of furniture) potty was kicked into the air and urine poured down upon my prehistoric toes. Fuck ruddy fuck I screamed as I kicked the potty again for good measure and proceeded to the bathroom. It seems I may have put on a pound or two as I pulled the costume up and over my belly, boobies and shoulders. Once on I stood like Jesus Christ on the cross. Arms and legs open wide. It was so darn tight around my ass I walked like john Wayne after a good rodgering! I dressed over my cossie, grabbed my bag and headed to LA Fitness. I planned to swim 40 lengths, have a long steam, a coffee and head back home relaxed.

I asked the young girl at reception if the pool was busy.  Her reply was thus:  “No, there is just one lane being used”.  I thanked her and crept into the changing room.  I surveyed the room before locating my locker.  I do this as  I still suffer nightmares from a particularly eventful day when I strolled into the changing room to be faced with an extrodinarily large naked lady bending over and giving me a bird’s eye view of her mighty chocolate starfish!  The whole episode of her cleaning her bits with a face flannel haunts me daily.

She was not there.  I undressed. Decided to put in my contact lenses. Grabbed my goggles and placed my green Lycra swimming hat upon my head.  I was ready to swim!

Fecking liar I hissed under my breath as I approached the one lane available.  Lane one was in use for private swimming lessons and lane three had two groups of small children screaming and shouting, splashing and pissing in the pool.  I adjusted my goggles and decided the middle lane was all mine.  I hummed brown girl in the ring and began my gentle breast stroke.

After 6 lengths I noticed the pool filling up with parents who had arrived to watch their children swim.  As more parents arrived I became more self-conscious being the only adult in the middle lane with my bright green Lycra swimming hat and baby blue goggles.  I prayed nobody would recognise me.  I gathered pace and started to do the crawl.  This was foolish as my mouth filled up with water I panicked and jumped up, breathing heavily.  The mothers looked my way as I tried to wipe away the snot hanging from my left nostril.  My goggles had fallen onto my mouth and I could hear somebody calling my name from the large group of parents at the end of the pool.  Ruddy Fuck!  I’ve been rumbled!

I ignored the call and continued my strokes.  The kids groups on my left were splashing and shouting.  I wanted to dive bomb the little buggers.  Little Henry was splashing so vigorously I thought he was fitting.  I slipped underwater and enjoyed the peace and quiet of underwater swimming, suddenly  I could hold my breath no further and shot up for air like a bat out of hell. As I came up I collided with a florid faced angry looking woman in a sparkly turban swimming hat.  She snorted.  I snarled.  We agreed to share the lane and continued our swim.

20 laps completed and more parents are standing around the pool.  My florid faced lady friend sharing my lane keeps hitting me when she passes.  Her style of swimming is similar to that of a drowning cat.  I find her very offensive and wish she would fuck off.

As I approach my 25 length I am thinking of ways I can stealth swim pass the florid faced woman and then bring up my fist from under the water, hit her on the chinny chin chin and knock her out.  But alas no – as I look up I see a further 3 women getting into the pool.

One of them women signals to me by pointing her finger at me and twirling it vigorously, meaning we would swim around the lane.  I gave her the thumbs up and wished she would also fuck off.

30 lengths and it’s like the M25.  I’m sick of this and decide to get out and have a steam.  As I hold in my stomach and tiptoe up the steps of the pool hoping nobody will notice me one of the parents grabs my arm.  Oh for fucks sake I hiss.

Small talk done I drag myself into the steam, take off my hat and googles and relax.  I can hear the kids splashing and screaming outside.  I can hear the parents cheering on their little Ashleys, and Henrys.  I can hear the 4 middle lane swimmers splashing as they crawl up and down and up and down.

As I breathe in the eucalyptus I am suddenly aware of how damn hot this steam room is.  My head is swimming and my skin has turned a pinkie red colour.  I stand up abruptly, grab my swimming hat and goggles and practically fall through the door landing on my knees in front of the parents.

Oh ruddy hell I whisper as I pick myself up and head back to the changing rooms to shower.

As I sit drinking my coffee and nibbling on my banana I find myself staring at the rather large lady opposite me.  She is so familiar.  Another bite of my banana and then it comes to me – she is the chocolate starfish woman!!  The one who haunts me.

I scoff my banana, give her a smile and leggit home.

Center Parcs – the arrival

We were sandwiched between two trucks of toddlers. I noticed a small girl in the back seat of her car looking at me shyly. I stared her out and sucked hard at my mint. At last we were waved through by a thin ugly little man in a CP uniform. Thank God I shouted as we slowly drove into a dark forrest. I was about to water the garden when we had to pull in again as a blonde CP attendant tapped at my window and welcomed us to CP. I forced a smile and then she was gone. She returned with our keys and a map showing our lodge. Pine 405. We were to drive to our lodge, unpack, and then take the car to the main car park. Easy.

40 ruddy minutes later we are still searching. We found Pine 404, we found Pine 403, 402, and 406 but where the ruddy hell was Pine 405? This was a joke. We drove round and around the Parc narrowly missing sweaty faced families on their bikes and jogging Mothers pushing prams. I was now about to wet my panties. The girls were hungry and having tantrums. Carolyn wanted to go home. I sucked hard and then Carolyn hit the breaks and I got out. I walked along the road, hissing at the families, dodging bikes and buses and was about to tarzan scream in the face of a midget Chinese lady who gave me a funny look when I found it. Pine 405. We had arrived. Thank Fuck

We parked up and unloaded the girls. They were screaming. Carolyn’s face was florid with rage as I grasped my front bottom and dashed down the path to our lodge. I turned the key. I turned it again. It opened. As I sat on my throne I could hear the commotion outside. For a moment I just wanted to stay here, locked in the toilet. Carolyn screamed my name and I ran back towards the noise and noticed a duck eating a frog. Grotesque little fucker! Did ducks eat meat? I grabbed Ruby and we all headed back to the lodge.

The next 30 minutes was spent unloading the ‘stuff’. Cotbed. Buckets. Spades. Clothes. Food. more food. more clothes. And so on. I walked up and down that bloody path until we were finally in. We arrived at 2pm, it was now 3.30pm. The accommodation was fabulous but we needed to eat and get our bearings. It was time to check out the Parc. And I needed a large, chilled snifter!