Saturday, 19 October 2013


So, it looks like summer has finally departed. The t-shirts, shorts and sandals have been stored away for another year, replaced with trousers, cardigans and boots. I even had to give in and buy a new winter coat last week. I must be getting old because I actually bought a sensible, practical coat, but that’s another story. So the nights are drawing in and in a week’s time the clocks go back. I fear turning into a vampire at this time of year. I go to work and it’s dark. I come home from work and it’s dark. As I write I am looking out at a damp garden. Granted, the grass looks a lot greener than it has in the last few months (and I’m not just talking about the other side of the fence!). I don’t know if it’s because I was born in September, but I actually don’t mind autumn. Don’t get me wrong, I prefer long, hot summer days but I actually like sitting in my nice cosy living room, listening to the rain on the window. Winter however, is a different matter. I hate winter with a passion. I hate being cold, and there is something more menacing about winter rain than autumn rain. Bonfire Night and Christmas are the only things that stop me from hibernating from November until March. Strangely, Bonfire Night is the only time of the year I don’t mind bundling myself up in big coat, scarf, gloves and boots and venturing out. I hate snow. Maybe hate is a little harsh. I love sitting indoors and watching it fall. I love looking out and seeing the fresh blanket on my garden, before the postman comes and puts his big, dirty footprints all over it! I actually don’t mind going out in it. Pulling on my flowery wellies and feeling it crunch underfoot but I despise having to drive to work in it! I am fine driving in the dark, in the rain or even in windy conditions but I hate driving in snow. I will admit to being a cautious driver at times (I am by no means a Sunday driver but I prefer to leave a safe distance between me and the car in front and I actually know how to use my indicators), but other people seem to think that driving is snow is just as safe as driving on a dry road. Personally, I would love to pass a law that says we should declare a public holiday if more than an inch of snow covers the ground. Kerry for Prime Minister! One good point has to be winter food. No more salads and pasta. Bring on the stews, the cottage pie, the jacket potatoes........ Maybe winter isn’t that bad after all

Sunday, 11 August 2013


Last Wednesday morning started out like any other. An irritable grumble as I drag myself out of bed, complaining loudly about the fact that the other half gets to stay in bed for another hour or two due to the fact that his shift that day doesn’t start until 11.30. I pulled clothes at random from my wardrobe hoping that they went together, dragged the hairbrush through my hair and hobbled, bleary-eyed down the stairs. Made up my breakfast and lunch and shoved them into a bag, together with a yoghurt and some fruit to get me through another gruelling 10.5hr shift. I feel I should point out here that, due to the fact I start work at 8am I take breakfast with me, favouring and extra 10 minutes sleep over eating breakfast before I leave. After giving myself a once over in the mirror, checking that the clothes I had chosen did indeed match, I left that house and started on the twenty minute journey to work. Nothing unusual in this you may think. I indeed was thinking the same thing until about 15 minutes into my journey. This was the point when, having stopped at a roundabout to allow for two motorcycles, I was hit from behind. It took a few seconds, after the initial impact, the sound of smashing glass and being thrown forward with such force that my head only just missed the steering wheel (thank goodness for seatbelts), to realise what had happened. Luckily there was a lay-by a few yards down the road so we pulled in. I was dreading what I was going to see when I got out. I was expecting my taillights to have bitten the dust at least. So I was pleasantly surprised to find that the only visible damage was that my once blue paintwork was now that same shade of red as the vehicle that had hit me. After exchanging details, and waiting for my hands to stop shaking, I set off, intending to finish my journey to work. However, two minutes down the road I became apparent that the paintwork wasn’t the only problem. There was a definite rattle coming from the back of the car, which sounded suspiciously like my exhaust. So, I turned around at the next opportunity and made my way home. Somehow I managed to keep myself calm until I walked through the front door and shouted to the other half that I wasn’t going to work. “Why?” came his concerned response, at which point I burst into tears, sobbing that in my eight years of driving I’ve never had an accident, and now someone just drove into the back of me. Then I had to start with the many many phone calls. The call to work to let them know I wouldn’t be in. The call to the doctor’s surgery (the whiplash was starting to set in by now). The phone calls to the insurance company, the conversation with the hire car company, the call I received from the Solicitor wanting to act on my behalf, followed by a call from a physiotherapist! I felt very popular! Later that day I had two sets of painkillers, over £10 worth of charges on my mobile bill thanks to the number of 08 numbers I had to call and a very nice Vauxhall Corsa courtesy car. I know what my next car is going to be! Five days later I still have the courtesy car and thankfully the whiplash has almost worn off (although I still have a banging headache). I say thankfully because the painkillers were subjecting me to full afternoons on the sofa. “May Cause Drowsiness”……hmmmmmmmmm

Saturday, 3 August 2013


If you have read my previous posts you will be aware of my hatred of the supermarket. So, with this in mind I decided to give online shopping a try. No parking, no queuing, no trolley rage, no problem. Yes, I’ve heard all the horror stories. “If they don’t have what you asked for they’ll send you a replacement that is nothing like what you asked for”. “They send you the food that is almost out of date to get rid of it”. However, I was feeling particularly lazy and really didn’t have the energy for the stress of doing the weekly shop, so I logged on and started shopping, and I have to say, it’s surprisingly easy and I even saved myself some money. After picking a time for delivery I set about filling my virtual trolley. I have to say, this was an eye opener. I never realised how much I spent on fruit and veg. I usually go around the aisles of Asda filling my trolley without really looking at the prices of individual items. So you can imagine my shock when I had already “spent” £25 and had only fruit and veg to show for it. Nonetheless I carried on and an hour later my order was complete so I proceeded to “Checkout”. I had chosen to have my purchases delivered between 5pm and 7pm so, based on previous delivery experiences, I was expecting my shopping to turn up at 6.59pm so I was impressed when it arrived at 5.50pm. The delivery man was very pleasant and explained exactly what happens at this point. It must have been evident that this was my first time! I was told that the strawberries I ordered were missing. Apparently there are “no strawberries so late”. Mental note made to book delivery earlier next time! He told me a few items had been substituted. Oh no, does that mean the tuna I ordered would be replaced with cat food? Actually, I found out, it just means the brand of tuna I ordered wasn’t available so they had sent a different brand. What makes it even better is that the replacements are either equivalent in price or more expensive, but they don’t charge you. Bonus! So, after giving the pleasant man my autograph on one of those new fangled electronic signature thingies all that was left for me to do was unpack. Now the only thing I need to do is find someone to unpack the shopping and put it all away and this would be the most pleasurable shopping experience ever!

Saturday, 29 June 2013


I bought a new handbag a couple of weeks ago and was faced with the task of transferring everything from on bag to another. 

Gone are the days when I could fit everything into the tiny little Radley bag I carried around proudly for a few years.  These days I need a bag to rival that of Mary Poppins; something that can accommodate a notebook, Kindle, mobile phone, purse, keys umbrella, hairbrush, body spray, painkillers (which invariably end up at the bottom of the bag, prompting a mad search each time I have a headache) and a number of lipsticks.  Heaven only knows how young girls go on these days with these tiny bags!

The worst part about changing bags is that, amongst all the useful items listed above, there is always hundreds of old supermarket receipts, sweet wrappers, tissues and empty cans of body spray.

How did I manage to fit all this rubbish into my tiny little bag?  How do I now carry my huge bag around without doing myself an injury?

This also got me thinking.  When I was 18 (yes, I can just about remember being 18), I went for a night out with a dolly bag containing my money for the night and a tiny lipstick.  Now, just for a night at the local I need a bag big enough to fit money, mobile phone, keys and the other half’s keys, mobile phone, cigarettes and lighter.

Maybe we should be more like men.  No bags; just shove things in out pockets until they’re fit to burst.  Nah, can’t see it catching on.

Saturday, 1 June 2013


So, with less only a few days until my summer holiday I have had a wonderful weekend of being well an truly pampered.

I spent blissful two hours yesterday having my nails and feet "done". To be fair I have my manicure every three weeks but as a treat before our hols, the other half said he would pay for me to have a pedicure as well. 

I've never had a pedicure before and I was genuinely looking forward to it.  I haven't got the best feet in the world but they’re far from the worst.  So for the past few weeks I've been giving them a good going over the with pumice stone, moisturised at night and, most importantly, stopped going to the bin barefoot (it's literally two steps away from my front door!).  So after my manicure (a luxury in itself) I spent 45 minutes in what I imagine heaven to be. 

It started with 10 minutes with my size sixes in one of those foot spa thingies.  You know, the one's you fill with water then plug into the electric (a wonderful mixture) and it vibrates, massaging your feet.  I was treated to a cup of tea and a collection of magazines to accompany it.  After this I was so relaxed.  Then, when I thought I couldn't be any more relaxed, I was asked to lie on the bed, before I was treated to a leg and foot massage.  I had warned the beautician that I am ticklish on my feet so there was no need to be gentle.  Her response to this? "Well don't jump; I have a sharp blade in my hand".  I was slightly alarmed at this, but this was to remove hard/dead skin from my feet.  My feet now feel softer and smoother than they have in years.

The finishing touch was having my toenails painted.  Not being blessed with a steady hand I’ve never painted my toenails without getting it all over my toes as well, so to have them done properly, I was overjoyed.  I lost count of the number of times I said to the other half, “look at my feet!”.  He commented more than once that they smell a lot nicer than usual too.  I felt so loved! 

This morning the hairdresser appeared at my door.  Just a trim and a tidy-up before they holiday, but I always enjoy half an hour of having my hair played with.  If I could pay someone just to come round and do that, I would do. 

So, I’m all preened and pampered and ready for a fortnight of sun, sea, sand and………..sangria

Sunday, 19 May 2013


We read in the newspapers and see on the television about children being abducted and worse, so it's no surprise that there is a lack of children playing out on the street as we (we of a certain age anyway) used to do.

I walked down the street earlier and saw four kiddies playing Dobby.  For those of the games console era, dobbie is a little like hide and seek, but rather than just seeking out the hiders, both hider and seeker have to race back to the "control point" (for want of a better phrase), usually a lampost or gatepost and "dobby" the hider.  It really was exciting stuff!

It got me thinking though.  Ok, so kids these days have iPods, games consoles (I'm not even gonna pretend I know the name of the latest console or the must have game!) and mobile phones (for heavens sake), but do they really know what they are missing out on?

Aside from hide and seek/dobbie, we had British Bulldog.  British Bulldog wasn't great fun for me.  I was quite a chubby child, so a game where you had to run from one side to the other without getting tagged wasn't my favourite. 

Kerby was probably one of the most dangerous games played.  It involved one person stood at one side of the road, one at the other, trying to throw at ball at the opposite kerb.  This really had to be played on a quiet road, otherwise the ball (at best) would end up under oncoming vehicles.

Paper Chase was a particular favourite, but up until a certain age, I was only allowed to play this if my older brother or sister were playing too as it involved leaving our street.  A trail of paper based clues left in various locations in the village, leading to an eventual hiding place of the person who had left said clues.

These games, and variations on them, weren't all that went on.  Oh no.  The girls were often having handstand contests (again, something I was never very good at) or the skipping ropes were out and the boys would be off playing army, or something just as destructive, resulting in brusies, grazes and blood!  But this was in the days when if you got a cut on your elbow/knee/head, your mum put a plaster on it and you back playing within five minutes!

Games were played into the evening, even when it started to get dark, until you were called in for dinner/bathtime.

Snow days were fun.  We lived at the top of a cul de sac, and one year the snow plow came up (to this day I still no idea how the driver got it up and turned it round on such a narrow street), leaving us kids at the top of the street with a ready made barricade, whilst the kids at the bottom end of the street had to make their own.  Obvisously, it was nowhere near as good as ours!

As we got older, the top of the cul de sac became a football pitch, a tennis court and even a cricket strip. 

I really don't think children these days know what they are missing out on.  These games were so simple but actually got us out in the fresh air come rain or shine, rather than sat in front of a screen all day.

Bring back the old days I say!

Friday, 10 May 2013


I decided today, as I have been up early all week, that I would have a lie-in.  I was so irritable yesterday due to tiredness and ended up in bed at 8.30pm!

So, after the other half went to work at 5am (this means I am also awake at 5am!) I settled myself back down for a couple of hours sleep. 

Four hours later I woke up, the television playing away to itself.  I reasoned with myself that this was exactly what I needed and that I "must have been tired" (a phrase I have inherited from my mother, who I am in danger of turning into)

Now, you would think, at 9am, that I would get up feeling refreshed and ready for my day off.  No!  I laid there for another half an hour.  I am not one of these strange breed of people who wake up and get straight out of bed, I have to "pull round". 

Once I had fully woken up, I decided to fire the laptop and "check" facebook and twitter (a better source of news that any newspaper!)

I finally got out of bed at 11am! 

You would think I would feel great for such a lie-in.  Again, no!  I walked downstairs with what felt like one of the worst hangovers ever!  My head was pounding and, if possible, I felt even more tired than I had when I went to bed last night.  Worse still, I had to do the Asda shop feeling like this, which of course meant that everyone there was there for the sole purpose of annoying me (I believe Asda employ people in this role).

The worst thing about such a lie-in though is the feeling that I have completely wasted my day.  It is now 7:45pm and I feel like I have done very little.  I have done the Asda shop and tried on holiday clothes to make sure they fit and started packing (still a month to go and I have started packing!) and very little else!

So, I think I need to make up some time!  So, while the other half watches golf, I'm going to do some re-drafting and abandon any ideas of an early night!

Monday, 6 May 2013


If you've read my previous posts on here you will know I am not the biggest fan of Mondays, in fact, I hate them.  Put the words Bank Holiday in front of it though and it's a totally different matter.

A 30th birthday party last night meant that the day started with a hangover, made slightly better by the bacon and egg buttie (again, regular readers will know this is one of my vices). 

It looked like a lovely morning but during the drive home it seemed a little cool and that maybe I had got my hopes up about the great British weather again, so I decided to have an hour in bed to try and sleep off the hangover. 

The extra hour seemed to do the trick.  The headache and general crappy feeling was starting to lift.

It wasn't until I set off for my weekly torture session that is the Slimming World weigh-in, that I realised it was hot, not just warm, but hot, and I had wasted the day sleeping off the after effects of last night's party.

The good news was I've lost 2lb this week.  Surprising after the amount of alcohol that was consumed last night and the Chinese meal on Saturday night.  I'm thankful I decided against the Sweet and Sour Chicken Balls and went for the more Slimming World friendly Chicken Chow Mein (although I'm not sure the mini spring rolls were that friendly).

Now, my theory with Slimming World is that if I have lost weight, I deserve a treat.  Right? So pizza it was.  I'm not really a pizza fan and have to be "in the mood" to eat one.  Also, I'm not a fan of expensive chain pizzerias (with the exception of Pizza Express but that is purely because last time I went I had the best chocolaty gooey cake ever to have passed my lips), I prefer my local pizzeria and their smokey BBQ pizza.  Chicken, red onion. green peppers and BBQ sauce.  Again, I will point out that I was allowed this as I have lost 2lb this week.  This is my treat.  (At this point, I may be trying to convince myself rather than anyone else).  This pizza is every bit as good as chocolate and lasts longer (unless you have one of those ridiculously long Dairy Milk bars they seem to wheel out every Christmas).

So, after a bacon and egg buttie, an hour's sleep, the excitement of a 2lb weight loss, the sun and a pizza, the hangover seems to be disappearing - just in time for going back to work tomorrow!  Ah well, can't have everything!

Saturday, 4 May 2013


Being a Barnsley FC fan has never been easy, in fact, sometimes its almost impossible.  Today, however, was almost unbearable!

You see, today was the last day of the season (other than the Premiership) and we needed to win today's game against Huddersfield Town to stay in the Championship.  A draw would be enough provided Peterborough lost.  As a Barnsley fan, it's not unusual to have to rely on other teams to help us stay up - the bottom half of the table is familiar territory to us at this stage of the season.

After last week's win against Hull (the team in second place in the table) hopes were high but I'll admit, the nerves were jangling somewhat.

So, after a morning shopping, we settled in front of the TV with Jeff Stelling and co.  Unable to sit still for the first ten minutes, I paced the floor, got out the laptop, thought about doing some washing up, anything to get rid of the nervous energy that had taken over me.  Until, fourteen minutes in, a goal had been scored.  Crossing over the commentator at the John Smith Stadium, home of Huddersfield Town, it shown that Barnsley had drawn first blood.  Cue crazy lady being unleashed.  I started bouncing round the living room shouting "COME ON" and "GET IN" repeatedly.  My neighbours are so lucky to have such a quiet placid lady living next door.

The rest of the first half went by with little event.  Commentary suggested that we had the better half, with the majority of possession and the best chances, but no further goals were scored.

The came the second half.  While we were still winning, all was good.  Peterborough were drawing but this didn't affect us as we only needed to win.  All was going swimmingly until Jeff Stelling announced they were going back to the John Smith Stadium.  Ian Dowie broke the news that Huddersfield had scored - "BUGGER!" That put us back in the relegation zone.  This was not good.  Especially when Peterborough scored and were now winning!

It was a tense twenty minutes (it felt like hours).  Then they handed back over to Ian Dowie and I hid behind my hands until I head that Jason Scotland had come to Barnsley's rescue.  Were were 2-1 up with 16 minutes of normal time left.  Once again crazy lady had entered the building.  My other half was amused, I was now bouncing around the living room like Tigger of speed!

The euphoria lasted all of ten minutes.  Huddersfield scored in the 81st minute, signing out death warrant once again.

This was it.  I was close to tears at this point.  No two ways about it, we were going to be playing League One football next season.  I had managed to keep the faith all season, even through out worst patch before we got a new manager, but there come a point when you have to face facts.

I had my wine glass at the ready.  I was ready to drown my sorrows with a bottle of dry white.  Then news came through the Crystal Palace had scored.  This meant Peterborough were losing and had taken out place in the bottom three.  It took a while for it to sink in.  Cue Crazy Kerry again!  This time I could not sit down, I was pacing the floor, I was jumping up and down, I was singing.  The other half - a Manchester United fan - was still laughing at me (these Man Utd fans don't understand what every other team goes through!).

The final whistle went in our match.  It looked like we were staying up provided Crystal Palace could hold onto their lead until their final whistle!  It was an agonising couple of minutes.  Then, just as I was about to spontaneously combust, the final whistle was blown.  Peterborough were down and we had survived by the skin of out teeth!  I upped the craziness and I think only dogs would have heard me at one point!

The last day of the season is always eventful, but I think I went through almost every emotion possible today. 

I'm off to lie in a dark room for a few hours!

Friday, 3 May 2013


The Bank Holiday weekend is upon us and I decided to make the mostf it.  The second draft of my first novel is underway and I intened to get a large chunk of it done over my four days off work. 

So I got out of bed and 6:45am full of beans.  Actually the beans were an issue.

I turned the kettle on to make a brew - I cant even THINK about doing anything until I've had a cuppa.  I took the milk from the fridge, only to find  there was literally enough for ONE cuppa. 

So, cuppa made I needed to think about breakfast.  Cereal was clearly out of the question.  Opening the fridge door didnt exactly fill me with confidence. 

Out of the dozen eggs I bought last week, there was one left.  Not exactly enough for an omlette or scrambled eggs.

I realised with immense disappointment that the bacon buttie I had been craving for the last three days was out of question.  Although I had the obligatory brown sauce I was lacking bacon and bread, meaning beans on toast was also off the menu. 

I closed the fridge door again and after checking all cupboards tucked into Alpen bar!!!

Shortly after, I did the weekly Asda run and tomorrow's breakfast dilema will be making a choice between a cooked breakfast, cereal, omlette or fruit and yoghurt.......decisions, decisions!

Saturday, 27 April 2013


What to wear on a morning?  Have at least three outfits ready!  The Great British weather has played a blinder again today.

I got out of bed this morning thinking it might be a nice day.  A little chilly, maybe, but the sun was shining and i could see patches of blue sky.  Hanging out the washing I noticed the wind was strong enough for me to have to put extra pegs on the shirts I wa putting on the line!  It was a cold wind but the sun was still shining and was warm when the wind dropped briefly. 

I'd just made a cup of tea and started to tackle my ever increasing ironing pile when I noticed the rain on the kitchen window.  So, five minutes after pegging the washing out it was draped over the radiators, which had to be put on again this morning :-(

Obviously, Sod's Law dictates that the rain shower blew over pretty quickly!  Well, I''m sorry, but I wasn't pegging the washing out again!

So I'd resigned myself to the fact that the washing was going to be dried inside today!  We had the odd shower blow over and the sunshine came back out.  I tell you no lie, at one point it was raining in my back garden whilst the sun shone in the front garden!

The final straw came though when I went to the local shop for the usual Saturday paper and Lotto lucky dip!  It's close enought to walk so I refuse to drive down but the other half was on his way to play golf so he dropped me off!  It was a little overcase at this point but still dry.  It must have been in the shop for all of five minutes, but when I came out the rain had started - and this was no light shower!  I waiting for a few seconds, trying to decide whether to set off and risk looking like a drowned rat by the time I got home and whether to wait under the shelter until it passed.  My decision was made so much easier when the rain turned to HAILSTONES!  In April!  I've heard of April Showers but this is ridiculous!  Anyway, I waiting five minutes watching mini ice cubes falling mere millimetres from my face only for it to stop as suddenly as it had started! 

I got homea few minutes later and havent seen a drop of rain since!  In fact, Barnsley is now bathed in glorious sunshine!

I give up! The English weather has me completely and utterly baffled!

Friday, 26 April 2013


As I sit here typing this I am still suffering slightly from Tuesday's (it is now Friday) Kettlebell session. 

For anyone who has never had the joy, Kettlebells is an exercise class around 45 minutes long, each particular exercise being one minute long. 

Ok this sounds easy right?  Right, until you factor in the Kettlebell; a weight (I'm a beginner so I started with 4kg!) with a handle attached.

So, the exercises include squats - a LOT of squats - whilst swinging around the kettlebell.  Bearing in mind the sweat involved with exercise, the risk of someone's kettlebell flying from the hands is high!  Lots of bicep curls, side extensions and lunges to music I'm used to hearing in nightclubs.

Then come the press-ups....oh the press-ups.  What can I say?  I'm not ashamed to admit I can't do press-ups.  Never been able to.  Well, not without sticking my bum in the air.  So, when I managed to do five - yes a full five - "proper" sit-ups I was chuffed to bits with myself. 

I managed a few more sit-ups, even though I struggle with these too!  The stomach crunches and oblique twists were a lot more style!

The class instuctor, Drill Sergeant Alyesha, is a machine.  I swear, her muscles have muscles of their own!  She doesn't let up.  If you dare to stop she will literally shout at you "DON'T STOP".  Seriously the woman is evil. 

The day after, my legs refused to move.  Every time I sat down, a moan accompanied the action.  Even lifting my arms caused slight pain (that would be the press-ups!)

But hey, I've got a holiday coming up and the legs need some conisderable toning before I can be let out in a bikini!  So, next Tuesday I shall be putting myself through the hell again!  Wish me luck x

Monday, 22 April 2013


Don't you just love Mondays?  No?  Ok, ok, me neither!

I feel them looming from around 7pm on Sunday evening.  The dread that another week is almost upon us.  Another week of having to drag myself out of the comforting warmth of my bed at the crack of dawn, after a brief and fruitless battle with the alarm clock. 

Then there's the drive to work.  The usual, busy rush hour traffic, slowed down by the various sets of roadworks that have appeared over the weekend. 

Mondays at work seem to be a lot longer than any other day.  If you're lucky you manage to get a grunted greeting from colleagues who are equally bleary-eyed (some still recovering from Satuday night).

A while ago, I added extra pressue to my Mondays by joining a well known slimming club.  This is filled with a mixure of people.  The one's who have been going for years and continually yo-yoing and seem totally unaffected by this week's gain.  Then there's the smug "oh look how much ive lost this week!".   Then there's me, completely hit and miss....i usually have a couple of good weeks followed by a couple of horrendous weeks - there's only so long I can go without chocolate and pastry (not together obviously). 

All in all Mondays are completely horrendous but hey, its Tuesday tomorrow and one day closer to the weekend :-)

Friday, 12 April 2013


Ok, I can't say I didn't know what I was getting into.  I knew when I met the other half he enjoyed his golf.  I even joined him a couple of times and took an interest.  He even took me to the driving range tried to teach me to play and to be fair he's a better teacher than I am a student.  My co-ordination isn't the best (I never got the hang of the whole rub your belly and tap your head thing), so trying to keep my shoulders straight, bend my knees, keep my feet flat and keep my eyes on the ball was a task in itself! 

He goes every weekend, weather permitting and I love my me time.  He has his golf, I have my writing.  He recently won a competition to play in a ProAm competition - I'm very proud of him :-)

I enjoy 'trying' to play.  I even take in interest when he talks - very technically - about the game.  I still get my bogies confused with my birdies and I couldn't tell you how many under par you need to be to get an Albartros, but I'm learning - slowly

However, The Masters has started this week.  For anyone who, like me this time last year, knows little about golf, this is apparently a big deal!!!!!  Four days of golf.  I agreed he could watch it when he gets in from work and I will watch my soaps on catchup at weekend.  I now realise watching golf is not as entertaining as playing. 

For a start off, the live coverage starts at 7pm, however Augusta don't allow filming until 8pm.  So, we have an hour of technical talk. 

When live play starts, we have 5 interactive options.  You can actually pick which hole you want to watch, which player. featured groups, one particular part of the course or you can listen to more techincal stuff!

This goes on for four days!

We recently got a popular television package so that I could watch F1 and football.....I now realise this may all have been a cover.....he just wanted his golf!!! ;-)

Friday, 5 April 2013


Hate, such a strong word, but one that perfectly sums up how I feel about the weekly supermarket shop.  Stick me in the middle of a shopping mall with shops filled with clothes, handbags and shoes and I'm as happy as Larry, the supermarket however, is a whole different story.  I can go in there perfectly calm but come out like the Incredible Hulk's less tolerant sister!  Granted, I'm not famed for my patience but that place really gets me all fired up.  Today's experience was no different. 

It starts in the car park.  Usually it involves driving around the car park desperately trying to find a space.  Upon locating a free space another car seems to appear from nowhere to steal the space.  Cue foul language, usually reserved for the driver of the huge people carrier who has chosen to take up two spaces rather than try to park properly!

Once I've managed to find a parking space and squeezed out of my car, the fun really starts.  I invariably get the wonky trolley with a mind of its own.  Not only does it not go the way I want it to go, it ALWAYS drags me towards pretty shoes and sparkly handbags!

Then comes the fruit and veg aisle.  No matter which supermarket I visit, and I've tried every one, the fruit and veg aisle is ALWAYS the busiest.  Why?  Why do I have to fight my way through the crowds to get my hands on a bunch of bananas?  Assuming I survive the fruit and veg carnage the rest of the supermarket poses further problems.  First of all is The Browser.  The Browser will scrutinise every item on he shelf weighing up the pros and cons in an attempt to get the best value.  Personally, I go for speed (I usually get back in the front door no longer than an hour after I left!).  

Then there's The Bargain Hunter, similar to The Browser, but will seek out the BOGOF deals or the 'Reduced to Clear' items  in a bid to save a few pence.

There's the elderly couple unintentionally holding everyone up on the cleaning product aisle as they try to manoeuvre the trolley they picked with the wonky wheel, followed by the young couple who have just set up home together and trying to decide which detergent to choose. 

There's The Blocker, the one who blocks off the end of the aisle with their trolley so that everyone else has to try and weave their wayward trolleys around said Blocker.  Similarly, there's the one who abandons their trolley and goes back three aisles to find something they forgot. 

There's the gossipers, the ones who stand having a conversation in the freezer aisle, seemingly oblivious to anyone who just wants to get to the frozen peas!

The funniest are The Husbands.  Without wanting to sound sexist, it is mainly the womenfolk who do the shopping.  That said, you can tell the men who have been dragged along against their will.  They saunter along with the trolley, looking bored and constantly checking their mobile phones, occasionally obeying orders to retrieve something from a higher shelf.  They shuffle past other Husbands with pitying smiles and knowing nods. 

Then comes the checkout.  This is a whole new game.  You are made to feel like the biggest threat to the planet if you haven't brought your own carrier bags.  Then comes the million dollar question "Do you need any help packing?"  There is no correct answer to this question.  If you reply with a sweet "yes please." the looks could kill and if you say "no, thank you." this is seen as a challenge and your shopping is thrown at you much quicker that you can pack it.  Then there's the inevitable heart attack when you realise how much you've spent, before returning home to unpack your increasingly expensive shopping - but that's a tale for another day.

Maybe I ought to sample the delights of online shopping from now on!

Sunday, 31 March 2013

Playing Nurse Maid (badly)

So Easter Sunday was going to be a quiet one.  I was going to try and crack on (no pun intended) with the second draft of my novel, while the other half contolled the tv, before a few drinks to celebrate a friend's birthday later. 

This has changed somewhat.  The other half pulled his back on the golf course this morning and is now in agony.  How do I know this?  Well, it's pretty evident from the moans and groans every time he moves. 

The problem is I am the world's worst, and probably least sympathetic, nurse.  Sure, I'm happy to dish out the painkillers, I'll even make dinner, wash and dry the pots and put them away without complaining.  You may even hear the odd "Ah." or "How are you feeling?", but really this is as far as it extends.

You see, I'm a woman (at the risk of upsetting any men out there) and, without sounding too much like a cliche, we really do just get on with things.  Don't get me wrong, I had Man-Flu a couple of weeks ago (I can claim it was Man-Flu, becuase I caught it from a man!) and for a WHOLE DAY I only moved from sofa to visit the bathroom and refil my cuppa.  The fact that I did nothing all day did not go unnoticed, although the fact that I had been to work all week with said diesease evidently did. 

So sympathy is in very low supply today I'm afraid, but every cloud has a silver lining and, while the other half is laid up in bed with a bad back, I get control of the tv ;-)

Saturday, 30 March 2013


I arrived home today to find my writing magazine on the doormat.  This was exciting in itself (yes really!), but the screaming and jumping around started when I opened it to find my letter had been printed!

You see, I am relatively new to this writing business.  After a few failed attempts over the years I have recently completed the first draft of my first novel and I am currently in the process of re-drafting.  Along the way I have made a couple of attempts at short stories but after a couple of rejections I was a little downhearted. 

However, at the start of the year I read an article, the basis of which was setting more realistic targets. So I set about setting some targets.  One of them being to send a letter to a magazine each month and hopefully have one printed by the end of the year.  So, when I had only my second letter printed in Writer's Magazine I was somewhat excited.  It wasn't the star letter but, hey, it's a start.

Now I have had one printed I will continue to write reader's letters but I have now set myself another target, to get a short story publised.  Fingers crossed