A Pig in a Poke

If they gave out Oscar's for making crap life choices then I would have a cabinet full of the gleaming little buggers! At my age you would think that I'd have figured out that things are never quite as good as they seem but then this tiny area of my brain kicks in and convinces me that people are good and what they're promising is true. What am I harping on about? My new job that's what. The job with a company that I was convinced was for the long term with great prospects etc etc, well what a crock of shit that turned out to be. 

Week 1- I'm all raring to go, eager to learn as much as I can from the current Admin before she goes on maternity leave. Instead I'm sent to sit with some wet behind the ears temp (they hadn't bothered to tell me she'd been taken on) who has no admin experience at all to 'learn what she does'. After realising that all she does is flutter her eyelashes at the guys in the office and spend most of her time talking to her boyfriend I took it upon myself to go and sit with the real Admin staff and make notes and at least learn something other than how to be a tart.
The remainder of the week pretty much carried on in the same vain. I learnt how to do stuff really quickly but without 'proper company training' I had no log on to enable me to do anything but that was ok as I did the work on Charlotte's details while she supervised me. Every now and again the eyelash fluttering dolly bird would appear to learn the job - all she did was look at her watch and phone and then piss off back downstairs to be with her boyfriend.
Week 2 - I spent 2 days at the Birmingham branch doing some Excel training. I found out on the 2nd day that the manager who interviewed me had quit the job under a cloud of losing vast amounts of money for the business! WTF!
Wednesday I'm told that he's being blamed for supposedly losing £1.4 million in just over 12 months (alarm bells start ringing by this point). The place is swarming with the upper echelons of management who just ignore us minions. All orders are now being scrutinised with a fine tooth comb to monitor where money is being wasted. I could make a few suggestions - managers ordering last minute lunch via the caterer's (on the company) because they can't be arsed to go out and buy their own lunch from a supermarket 5 minutes away; People ordering stuff off their own backs without getting it approved but getting away with it. Staff breaking into store cupboards to take uniform and supplies that they can't be bothered to ask for - does anyone care? Apart from us Admin dweebs, no. I then find out that me and wet-behind-the-ears are to be 'equals' as she will be covering the maternity leave. So let me get this straight. I am to be on equal footing with someone who wasn't even born when I started working in offices and who can't even copy and paste on a document. Yeah that's going to work NOT.
So there we go. After 2 weeks I have come to the conclusion that this well known international company couldn't run a piss up in a Nunnery. I've decided to give it until the end of January to see if things improve and then I will start the dreaded job search yet again for that elusive good job with a good company. 

Elsewhere it's less than a week to Christmas. The decorations are looking festive but the mood isn't thanks to the mild weather. Kimi managed to escape and come home plastered in some foul smelling gunk. He's just about got over the horror of having 3 baths in short succession. Star Wars VII finally came around and we went to the 1 minute past midnight showing like the proper geeks that we are and it was fabulous. I can now splurge on the merchandise that I wasn't allowed to spend my pocket money on first time around.
Have a merry Christmas and may the force be with you :)

Just Like Starting Over

Herald the fanfare for after 3 months of being given the runaround by various companies and listening to more than my fair share of Employment Agency bullshit, I have at last got a proper job. No part time hours, no covering for others on a temporary basis - this one is mine and I hope it's for the foreseeable future until I'm too old to drag my wrinkly arse into work. I will be in my happy place working with business and household waste yet again as it goes through various recycling processes. 

Global company, nice people, benefits and opportunities - what more could I ask for. If this goes well I may cultivate dreadlocks and turn into a proper tree hugger.

We're off to Harrogate on Saturday for the worlds shortest honeymoon which should be fun. Having seen the prices for Betty's Tearoom's I can safely say we won't be going there for tea and cake so that's one Yorkshire icon we shall be giving a miss. Nearly £4 for a cuppa! Are you having a larf?!!!!!!!!!

Til Death Us Do Part

I can honestly say that being married doesn't feel any different to not being married. Good job we didn't spend tens of thousands of pounds on it then really. What can I say? The day went pretty much as we wanted it to. The Antichrist Bride wore Metallica as previously threatened and drove herself to the venue in her filthy, tatty Fiesta. The ceremony was conducted with Metallica's 'Fade to Black' playing in the background which amused me as it's not your typical wedding song if you read the lyrics. My much loved and well traveled Chicken Run bag was mentioned during the ceremony - a first for the registrar. We took about 6 photos - god how I hate having my picture taken, and we went to a local farm shop restaurant for the meal. They'd never had a wedding party in before so I think we made their day. We had some lovely cards and gifts and I am forever grateful to friends, family and penpal's for thinking about us on our special'ish day. They more than made up for certain mardy arsed individuals who shall remain anonymous. I 'm also eternally grateful to our 2 fabulous witnesses and my stunningly gothed up friend for being there with us. Your support was much appreciated especially as my parents are no longer around to see me get wed. I'm sure there would have been a lot of piss take from both of them about me marrying an Aston Villa fan.

And, just to prove you don't have to get into debt or bankrupt your poor parents to get wed, we did it all for the grand total of £418.38 !!!!

• Registry Office + marriage certificate  £150
• Rings  £125
• Wedding 'favours'  £28.39
• Grooms shirt and tie  £34
• Bride's Metallica t-shirt  £15
• Invites (homemade)  £1.00
• Cake  £60
• Velvet flowers  £4.99

No designer dress I will never wear again. No sugared almonds. No venue colour co-ordinated to our outfits. No annoying photographer or overpriced wedding album. No chairs draped in fabric and bows. No expensive wedding transport. No vomit inducing or twee little rituals or performances and no heart attack inducing wedding gift list for John Lewis.

The Infamous Chicken

The Guests

Star Wars cake

The Bride and Groom doing it their way

I'd always said that I would only ever get married in Las Vegas with a fake Elvis at the ceremony. Market Harborough bears no resemblance to Vegas even after 10 pints but 'The King' did make an appearance........

Elvis has left the building

Who's Counting?

Apparently if I 'cared' I would be able to tell you how many weeks/days/hours/seconds it is to the wedding. Errr it's just under 3 weeks I think, surely that's good enough. I struggle to remember the correct date let alone how long it is. When will the people who are touting it as the 2nd coming of christ get it into their heads that being married is the important bit and not all of the faff before hand. Now if you asked me how long until the new Star Wars film it's 5 weeks, 6 days, 7 hours and 20 mins and counting. Get your priorities right I say. 
Him indoors is off down south for a quiet stag night of 2. Me? I'll be having a hen night for 1 and 2 small dogs. I loathe the archetypal hen do crap and besides who the heck am I going to invite. The WI ladies who are all 80+?! 
I did actually bite the bullet and order a dress (fanfare). Sadly the image online didn't transfer too well and I looked bloody awful in it so back it went. I figured unless I wanted to spend the day stressed out and feeling like a trussed up pig in a barrel, dresses were off the menu. Therefore I will be carrying out my threat and wearing a Metallica t-shirt. It may be customised slightly if I have time but in my head it's all fine. Will I look back in years to come and regret my choice? No I won't. There may be a lot of things I'll regret but being me and being comfortable won't be one of them. 

From day 1 we've said this wouldn't be your run of the mill wedding. So no suits, white fluffy bridal dresses, preposterously expensive wedding present list, bridesmaids, photographers, poncey bloody cars, wedding albums, buttonholes, flowers, decorating the venue with lovey dovey shite or any of the other showy off kind of crap that certain smug marrieds feel they have to ram down your throat. Oh and there won't be sugared almonds on the tables either. Perish the thought!

How the Other Half Dress

I had a moment this morning where I wished I was more glamorous. Thankfully it passed quickly. Picture the scene - I had nipped out to pick up my Fibro meds, a pre-ordered Xmas pressie (yeah, feel free to swat me) and 6 items from the supermarket and I couldn't be arsed to dress up for the occasion. No change there. As soon as I drove into the chemist car park I saw 'Her' tottering down the street and I glanced at myself and felt like a bag lady. For a tiny market town Lutterworth wins hands down where certain characters are concerned. The Lady in question is always dressed impeccably  - todays outfit, an ankle length skin tight dress, fancy black coat and a rather fetching furry Cossack hat + the obligatory full face of make-up and hooker heels which I couldn't stand up in let alone walk down the street in. But then I guess if I worked in a *massage parlour* that offered other nefarious services I wouldn't be dressed in holey leggings, a bleach splattered band t-shirt, a threadbare hoody that has accompanied generations of dogs to the Vets in times of stress (and been washed since) and my usual bovver boots! I'm no headturner even if I do make the effort so my everyday mantra is 'why bother' but I guess it would be nice every once in a while to look that swish. Then again I'd look like a bag of angry cats in that frock so I think I'll stick to my baggy crap clothing.

I managed to finish my latest crazy crochet project this week and I'm loathe to sit here doing bugger all so I'm starting on another one. You can never have too many blankets! I'm also going to Yarn Bomb my car and make a steering wheel cover. It may not stop there, I could end up covering the entire car.

Krakow - A Whirlwind Romance

5 days in Krakow didn't seem like long enough to see and do everything that we wanted. Judging by the protests of my screaming knee joints and poor battered feet, it was more than enough and I'll just have to make a repeat visit to go on that longed for Communist tour. If I had a zloty for every gobsmacked comment we've received on our choice of holiday destination we'd be flying back tomorrow. "Poland? Really? Why would you want to go there? They're all over here anyway." Once you've waded through the typical English ignorant shite there are lots of reasons to visit, just grab a guide book and take a look for yourself. We don't all relish spending our holidays lounging around a pool or on a beach like a lard arsed, pasty beached whale. Some of us like to learn stuff and see beautiful and historic places instead of spending all of our time in the only British pub/eatery in bloody Spain because we can't stand that 'foreign muck'. Urgh. People like that make me want to puke.

So to keep it fairly brief, here's my lowdown on the beautiful and bewitching Krakow.

• Our hotel - The Poleski on the banks of the river directly opposite Castle Wawel. No complaints at all. Great room, friendly and helpful staff, delicious breakfast with a view to die for and a 15 minute walk into the town.
• Castle Wawel - well worth a visit. It's free to go in, you only pay to see the state rooms etc or as we did - Leonardo Da Vinci's 'Lady with the Ermine' painting (which knocks spots off the Mona Lisa and we didn't have to battle crowds 30 deep to see her).
• The Old Town and Market Square - just stunning with the Cloth Hall at it's centre and more bars and restaurants around it's perimeter than you can shake a stick at. Busy at all hours of day and night with music, people jostling for your custom on tours, sightseeing horses and carriages (which I refuse to go in), it's the place to be.
• St Mary's Basilica - for a raging Atheist/Heretic I have a huge love of religious architecture and stunning interiors and this place has to be one of the best I've ever seen. A few quid gets you in. Pick your jaw up off the floor on your way out.
• Free Walking Tours Foundation - Google them and then meet up for your preferred tour. The guides are funny and very knowledgeable, and it's a great way to see the city.
• Food and Drink - to us Brits it's downright cheap. One bar we found on the square was doing beer/wine/coffee/tea for a quid!! Yes a £1. They also did food and I had potatoes with white cheese and it was bloody lovely. The Polski Pub do fab pizza and they are responsible for my sudden love of Orkisz vodka. We had a particularly good night there after doing the Macabre Tour and 3 beers, 2 glasses of red wine, a pot of Assam tea and a glass of vodka came to a breath stealing 74 zloty which is about £13.50!!!! There is so much choice that you won't starve. Of course if you can't bear to let go of England there are several Costa Coffee's, Starbucks and McDonald's *shudder*
• Cafe Mini and Karmello Chocolatier - Eye popping cakes, chocolates and coffee. Walk past if you can.
• Tour to Auschwitz/Birkenau - while I'm glad I went on this tour I could have done without the obscene amounts of people milling about but I guess it's to be expected. Everyone should visit if only to bring it home what atrocious conditions these people were forced to endure. I did think though that the 'souvenirs' shops were a little bit in poor taste. Yes we all want a magnet of the gas chambers on our fridge - NOT!
• Krakow airport - my idea of hell. It wouldn't be so bad if the airport staff weren't dressed like the bloody KGB and had no patience what so ever. I was probably a hairs breadth away from being locked up for my refusal to bin my vodka and my anger at having to remove my footwear!
• Most Krakowvians speak excellent English but will appreciate you making the effort, even if it's just "Hi or Bye".

I can't wait to go back as there's a Communist Tour I'm itching to go on and then of course there's the food and the vodka........

Walking Through Treacle

It's 5.30am and my Fibro is conspiring against me. My legs feel like I'm wearing these - 

whilst being dangled over the edge of a bloody large shelf. My brain then decides to join in the argument by whizzing through all of the things that are currently playing on my mind (lack of job, wedding, the price of fish). Then BINGO! I am wide awake and camped out on the sofa with a cup of tea, Planet Rock radio and 2 expectant Yorkie's. From a personal point of view life would be much simpler if brains had an 'off' switch and then I could sleep a bit more soundly if not for those pesky heavy legs.
People probably think me slightly odd in that the impending nuptials don't fill me with a sense of overwhelming excitement at the moment. A certain level of dread yes, but that is only down to the fact that I'm convinced I'll look physically awful in whatever I choose to wear; and stress - can I call it that? It's more of a low level 'pissed off - ness' kinda stress. The type that manifests itself usually when you are having gargantuan weddings with 100's of guests and you're told you can't invite this person without inviting that one, and if you don't invite So and So's brats you'll upset them etc etc. Well guess what. If you invite just 5 people - yes that's the amount you can count on one hands worth of fingers, you will still get this level of shite from certain quarters and then seriously wish you could un-invite the perpetrator to allow you to get on and have the day You want. I have an overwhelming urge to speak my mind but I'm biting my lip so as not to worsen the non existent relationship I already have with these individuals. It's no biggy really. I'm not asking to sacrifice a child at the altar before I say my vows so why the agro? Let me make spell it out-

• I'm generally not a hypocrite so if I really can't stand someones guts I won't be 2 faced play nice and schmooze with them/invite them to my wedding/barmitzvah/birthday piss up. Believe me, if I loathe you then you don't want to be in my company when the alcohol is flowing. You might hear a few home truths.
• Just because someone is 'family' it doesn't mean they have to be there when you have stipulated that it's just a small do. Accept this people and move on.
• Traditions do not have to be adhered to. The groom does not have to wear a suit and the bride does not have to wear a hideous concoction that would look more at home covering a bog roll. We do not have to have an engagement, a show off diamond bling ring, a wedding list that will leave most people hyperventilating, a stag do, a hen do nor are we forbidden to see each other the night before/the morning of because it's unlucky. We don't have to pay a jumped up photographer vast amounts of cash to boss us around either. If we want tongue out rockin it selfies as a memento of our day then so be it.
• I do not have to take my husband to be's surname. This is the 21st century and I am the last of my family to carry my surname, so out of immeasurable respect to my parents who short of a seance can't be there, I'll hang on to it thank you.

I firmly believe that as our dosh has paid for the registry office, cake and meal we can do what we bloody well like. If I want to walk down the 'aisle' wearing my lucky pants and my favourite New York t-shirt with a bouquet of writhing grass snakes instead of flowers then I jolly well will (don't worry I won't ). If the groom wants to wear a paint splattered t-shirt, holey jeans and Converse then go for it. I'm not doing this for show or to make a nice photo to put on the wall that you can brag to your friends about. 

There's a lot to be said for eloping. That is all I can say.

I have more pressing matters to worry about today. In a few hours I'm getting my hair cut for the first time in 2 years. Not only that but I'm trusting the local college students to do it (cheapskate) and I'll be there for hours! Then later on I'm getting pierced by a trainee. A decision I may live to regret but I'm all for helping out. If I'm honest I am bricking it but there you go. Lets just put it down to a mid life crisis. If anyone has any bright ideas as to how I can get a girly 6 pack in 8 weeks then I'm open to suggestions - don't forget I'm not as pliable as I used to be. In the mean time it's back to crocheting on the exercise bike.

This is my before photo by the way :)

P.S. Ok so I have a confession to make. I didn't get my lip pierced after all. That sensible side of my brain kicked in and I realised I'd look a right Tit with 2 piercings so close together. 46 is too old to pass for an Emo after all. I did however get my hair cut. I was at the college for 2 hours and it was sooo relaxing I could've dropped off. The poor student was a little lacking in confidence but she did a wonderful job and it only cost me £4.50. Yes, four flippin pounds and fifty pence. Support your local college I say.

I Blame Men

Ever noticed how all women's problems begin with men? Menstruation. Mental breakdown. Menopause? Don't worry this isn't a bloke bashing post. I, according to my dear Doctor have started the Peri menopause! As I stared at him in disbelief he explained that this is basically the period (no pun intended) where your body eases you into that joyful stage of your life called 'the change'. My god being female is a never ending joy isn't it especially when you think 'Wahay I'm past the childbearing years' you're hit with this quadruple whammy that can apparently last 10 years. 10 friggin years of rambunctious hormones, things drying up (that'll be your skin and your foof then), night sweats (mine can't distinguish between night and bloody day) and hot flushes. Most days I could happily walk around with my bra stuffed with frozen peas. My hands, arms and feet are blue and freezing cold but the rest of me would give Mount Etna a good run for its money. I've always said I would refuse HRT but if the NHS touted ants testicles as the cure all for this hell I would happily sprinkle them on my cornflakes every morning.

So Friday saw me leave the 'perfect job'. There were flowers, there were cards, there was gin! there were tears, furry alpacas, chocolate and more tears. Never has a Temp been made to feel more fabulous and appreciated than I was and it has broken me to walk away but the job is not mine to be had. Don't get me wrong, every day I hope and wish that their returning Admin girl decides it's not for her after 3 months in the jungle saving small critters, gets bored and buggers off. I'm not being mean. I loved the job, I loved the hi viz wearing blokes and all of their quirks, I loved my nutty boss and my fab work colleague. I even loved most of the drivers and the smell of composting rubbish. What's to feel guilty about especially as the dead cert jobs the agency had lined up for me have turned out to be anything but. Let's face it, I don't fancy being jobless again and contrary to popular belief I would rather earn less and be monumentally happy at work than earn over £20k a year working for some huge company that struggles to remember who you are let alone the fact that you have a life outside of their 4 walls *cough* Asda.

It's not all been doom and gloom in the cow shed. Ok so Kimi broke a toe and a claw but on the plus side I got to practise my pet 1st aid skills several times a day - much to his disgust. He's on the mend now but obsessed with nibbling at his phantom claw. The wedding arrangements are pretty much done and dusted though the bride-to-be is no thinner and currently unable to utilise the exercise bike thanks to crippling fibro, so there is still no dress. At this rate I'll be limping down the aisle in a Metallica t-shirt and leggings, not that it would bother me or the ball-and-chain-to-be. I do however still wish we'd just got hitched on the quiet as some people are intent on voicing their opinions again and again about our choice of guests. Has anyone ever un-invited people to their wedding cos I sure as hell will give it a go if that's what it takes to keep this as our day. Don't be fooled by this pink, fluffy haired exterior. I can turn into the Hulk at the drop of a hat....Raaaarrrr!

Actually that's probably what I'll look like on the day :)

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

So I have 3 weeks left in the perfect job and I'm trying not to think about it too much but it's pretty hard when you're willing the real employee not to want their job back and their colleagues say stuff that makes you think they might not return or stay very long if they do. I've made it clear that I love the job and the people and would drop everything no matter how far in the future to come back to the place. There's not much else I can do and there aren't any Witches or Voodoo men in the village to help out at times like this so I have hope and a lot of it. It really would be the icing on the cake and for once I'd be able to say that life was pretty damn perfect - marrying the bloke I've loved since day 1 in the way that we want to and working with a nutter of a boss and with a cracking bunch of people. We may not own this place, have flash holidays and cars or be rolling in money but I wouldn't change things for the world if that job became mine all mine. 

The budget wedding of the century is pretty much planned and paid for and all in the space of 2 weeks. 2 weeks!! I could mince around and call myself a Wedding Planner and earn a lot of wonga from this stuff but no amount of money would persuade me to work with Bridezilla's and their bloody Mothers with tens of thousands of pounds to spend on bad taste and tat. I made all 3 invites which was quite fulfilling, we've picked thee most 'un weddingy' music which made the Registrar whoop with joy, there is no engagement ring that cost 3 months salary (not all women want to shove half a carat of bling into everyone's faces), the cake will be splendid in a very geeky way, the bride and groom will not be decked out in regulation wedding finery and Sin of ultimate Sins we will not have a proper photographer (stupid selfies and any face pulling pics will be encouraged and most welcome).The only 2 people we're out to please is us. I can't wait and part of me wishes we'd just registered our intent to wed, waited the 28 days and then dragged 2 poor sods off the streets of Market Harborough and forced them to witness our nuptials for nowt. 

I have 3 Kilner jars of flavoured gin and vodka festering away nicely under the sink which should be ready by November. The wedded couple, the Best Goth and the witnesses may well be a wee bit hungover and very merry. Here's to dysfunctional weddings.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Sometimes life is a bitch. I have 6 weeks left in my perfect, much loved job (who knew that landfill could make a girl so happy). I'm quietly hoping that the mere child I'm filling in for decides not to return after the guys on site expressed how much they want me to stay. I may well cry. Anyway, I'm making the most of it. I love my job, I love going to work and it pains me to take any days holiday - when did anyone claim to be able to say that ! When life is this good grab what you can. 

In a week when the Foo Fighters announced they would play 2 dates to make up for their cancelled Wembley gigs (we had tickets) I had a bit of a romantic brainstorming moment. I decided that I would be a 21st century female and ask the bloke in my life to marry me. Not only that, I was going to do it at the Foo's gig during 'Everlong' assuming they played it of course. It was a perfect plan until I decided to contact the band via Twitter. I thought blocking my other half from seeing my stuff would keep it all secret but I hadn't counted on his phone alerts so the cat was well and truly out of the damned bag and running riot. It's given matters a kick up the arse I guess which is fine as we'd never planned on having a HUGE show offy, look at me in a vile white meringue frock kind of ceremony anyway. If funds permitted I would be on the 1st plane to Las Vegas to get hitched by a fake Elvis, but budget is the word of the day so it could be held in the Free From aisle at Tesco for all I care. People gave up asking if I was 'courting' donkeys years ago so I always felt like the lost cause. Therefore I won't feel guilty slinking off to do it on a whim. Who says these things have to take a year and 10's of thousands of pounds to plan?!

Square Peg in a Round Hole

Maybe I'm doing it wrong but I've always believed that respect was 'earned', you don't just demand it because of who you are or the position you hold. My way of thinking though has got me dismissed from my job of 7 months which I must admit came as a bit of a shock. Don't get me wrong I had a huge amount of the R word for my immediate boss and my co-worker and considered myself to be pretty damn loyal to our small team. Oh it was all going so well until our major client demanded that we move into their new premises, then all of the arse licking senior managers started to crawl out of the woodwork to be seen to schmooze with all of the right people. Sadly they didn't see the existing staff as being the 'right people' so we've had weeks of unprofessional blustering and bullshit and threats of disciplinary action and accusations of corruption have been commonplace. The most senior of these 'managers' is one of those nasty, ball breaking women who doesn't care who she's stepped on to get where she is. Her manner and way of talking to and about people was lousy to say the least and I made the fatal mistake of standing up to the acid bitch. Between them, the 3 witches from Macbeth have managed to concoct a surprising amount of shite I'm supposed to have said and so get me shoved out of the door for not fitting in or was it my attitude or the fact there was no place for me in their restructuring of the office? Who knows and who cares. If you're going to lie about remarks I'm supposed to have made then at least make the effort to use words I would use you idiots otherwise it's not terribly convincing to those who know me. 

I'm trying to remain optimistic and I'm job hunting like a maniac. There has to be an employer out there who treats their staff well and who doesn't spend the entire working day doing internet shopping or looking on dating websites (I'm sure the wife would be happy to know that) or bragging about how they're paid a disgustingly large amount of money for doing nothing. Managers who do that don't deserve respect they deserve a smack around the back of the head with a baseball bat if you ask me. 

The Resurrection of King Richard

Blimey I haven't blogged/bored the pants off people in over 3 months! I have thought about it but just sat staring at a blank screen thinking I having nothing of worth that people want to know. Hell I think like that all of the time! Anyway, November was an age ago and soooo much has happened since then - some good and some bad. We're no longer living in the tiniest dwelling in the village as we've moved 300 m down the road to shack up in a converted cowshed. If I still had it I could park The Beast in our living room/kitchen which also happens to be bigger than Pippin Cottage was in its entirety! The dogs are happy monsters who now have their own garden to run amok in and a very long hallway to run up and down like a pair of crazed haggis. At last I have a study/craft room which still resembles a packing box dumping ground but I'll get there. The Fibromyalgia (if it is that) is still with me but now I have a Tens machine so I can electrocute the bugger whenever I see fit. The Rheumatologist has now referred me for more tests at a different hospital so on it goes. But.......yesterday I finally finished this......

...my backwards King Richard blanket :) which I can't even remember starting it was that long ago. A lot of pain has gone into this so I will treasure it. My dilemma now is which unfinished project do I tackle next? Due to the state of this poor bugger I think that decision is already made. Scruff (was Fluff) the childhood bear rears his (unattached) head!

Under all of that manky acrylic fur still lurks some of the original Deans/Merrythought mohair but it's probably bald as a coot by now. His head is no longer attached to his body and he has 1 eye and 1 ear. I hope I look better for 46 than he does. I have new cotter pin joints and a fat quarter of mohair somewhere in the spare room so I think it's time to lavish him with some TLC. After that I've promised Kimi I will knit him a Freddy Kreuger sweater

Enough said.

Creaking Like a Rusty Gate

Let's not beat about the bush. The crafting side of life has ceased to exist. Apart from the few poppies that the Craft Coven have whisked up, there is no crocheting or knitting flying through my fingers and it sucks...BIG time. This is no creative lull, it's an all out bloody crisis. Not only am I being treated for Rheumatoid Arthritis, not yet confirmed but my Dr appears to enjoy using me as a guinea pig where stupid drugs are concerned; but after an appointment with a specialist (finally) it is now thought that I have Fibromyalgia! Oh deep joy. Is this Karma? (thanks Blimp you bitch) or is it just crap luck that at 45 I have constant joint and muscle pain? I won't ask what I did to deserve this as I'm sure there are several (hundred) people out there who's arms will shoot in the air ready to give an answer. I'm never going to run a marathon or get anywhere fast and my days of making stuff are numbered thanks to hands and fingers that won't work. Does this get me out of making any more shitty, white, flouncy baby blankets? Yes - it can't all be bad then. I can live with this shit providing it's with humour. It's harder living with some peoples patronising attitude that it'll 'all be fine in a few weeks'. My answer to that is google it and then come back and tell me it's gonna be fine. Where's support when you need it? Running down the road at break neck speed probably. My one saving grace is a bunch of like minded 'geeks' who go by the collective name League of Extraordinary Penpals (LEP to those in the know.) If it wasn't for the re-discovery of the joy of penpals, the warped humour and mindless discussions about anything from the meaning of life to your favourite pen on our FB page or the endless stream of letters crashing through my letterbox and the support of strangers....I can safely say I would go mad.I need a new creative sideline. I wonder if I could paint masterpieces by lodging a paintbrush in my bellybutton?

Speciaal Voor U! Een Blog uit Brugges

Translated that means 'Specially for you, a blog from Brugge'. Yes, we're back from our short trip to Belgium. Is it good to be back? Errr no. I missed the dogs but could happily stuff them in the car and bugger off back across the channel. It's been just over 3 years since I bid farewell to Europe and it doesn't take much to remind me why I wish I'd stayed. Anyway.....the holiday.....where do I start? The good thing about coach holidays is that a) they are cheap and b) you get to see where you're going. The downside is that it takes you all day to get to your destination and in our case, you're stuck on a bus full of people you may or may not like (more of that later). Our hotel was the Ibis in De Panne, a coastal town I'd never heard of but it was lovely. The mussels and chips we had in a beach side bar were even lovelier and the OH gave the local beer a big thumbs up. Of course I had packed my Dutch phrase book and in De Panne they mainly speak French so that went tits up from the start. Luckily for us ignorant Brits they all speak English better than we do. 

De Panne seafront

Jeezus!! That's a dinner

On Tuesday we headed into Brugges. It felt like I'd never been away and I managed to locate my favourite chocolate shop as soon as we got into town. Thankfully they didn't remember me - that would have been hilarious. 1.75kg of chocolate later we were having coffee to give OH the strength to climb the 366 steps of the bell tower. Now in Belgium you never just get a cup of coffee or a glass of beer, you get accompaniments. The next time I get a coffee in England with no chocs/biscuits/cake I will protest very loudly.

You'll have to excuse the child in the photo

After a lunch of Frites and Mayonnaise we took a more leisurely tour of Brugges by canal boat. Now I hate boats but seeing as on my last visit the canals were frozen I was determined to find my sea legs to see more of the city. Our guide had a wicked, piss taking sense of humour and we got to see 'The Most Famous Dog in Belgium'!!

4 years I've waited for this!

This is Fidel - the most famous dog in Brugges

Hmm. They're odd looking chocolates

We ended the day at the S&S Bar on De Panne beach where the delightful barman asked for our music requests. Watching the sun set while drinking wine and listening to Metallica is about as perfect as it gets. We did make the mistake of having a drink in the hotel bar with some of our coach party. This only convinced us further that most of them loved the sound of their own voice/moaned about everything (dogs in cafes and bars being their favourite whinge) or in the case of the loud mouthed T**t from Nuneaton, wanted to kick off a fight with the locals. Thank you that man for epitomising all of the reasons that I couldn't wait to leave that shithole of a town and its Chav Yob populace.
On Wednesday we toured some of the WW1 cemeteries with our wonderful guide Pierre, and finished up in Ypres to see the Last Post at the Menin Gate. Thursday saw us descend on Ostend to sample the seafood and markets. With my final coffee of the day I was given a glass of proper Belgian/Dutch Advocaat. You don't drink it, you either eat it with a spoon or stir it into your coffee. It is to die for and I could kick myself for not buying a jar. After all of that walking we had no energy to hit the bars for 1 last night. No stamina these youngsters. We did at one point think we might get stuck at Calais after the illegals decided to storm the port and the Mayor of Calais threatened to close it down!! No such luck. By the time we got there they had stepped up the Police presence and the asylum seekers were few and far between. 
Would we go on a coach holiday again? Probably cos it's cheap but next time can we please sit at the back away from Captain Know It All and the fag ash brigade. 

Hello Soldier!!

Ostend

It's a Game of Musical Chairs

Moving, just keep moving

Well I don't know why to stay

No ties to bind me

No reasons to remain

It's 1.40am which is a bizarre time to be sat here blogging and watching 'Good Morning Vietnam'. This is the 2nd Robin Williams film I've had to prop my eyes open to watch this week after his sad and untimely departure from this here mortal coil. What wazzock of a TV scheduler came up with the dumb ass idea of showing some of his greatest films in 'tribute' at ridiculous hours of the day?! Thankfully my head is so full of shite at the minute that I can't sleep so here I am watching yet another classic.
We have been to see 3 rental properties in as many days this week. If I thought selling a house screwed with your sanity then I hadn't banked on how lousy this game leaves you feeling. House #1 - a new build 'cottage' (yeah right), looked fairly promising when we walked in. Decent sized living room and lovely new kitchen. The downsides we could see were the overlooked garden, tiny downstairs shower room and close proximity to a school. That list got a whole lot longer when we ventured upstairs to discover they'd crammed 2 bedrooms and a loo into the shallowest roof space known to man. Great if you wanted to sleep on a mattress tucked up one corner and never hang clothes up, but pretty shit if you had a normal bed, wardrobes and a desire to stand up straight. House #2 - a brand spanking new bungalow on a new development which if I'm honest, has always been my idea of a living hell. Sad to say then I fell in love with the place as soon as we walked in the door! Kitchen and bathroom to die for and 2 decent sized bedrooms 1 of which I'd already decided would have my writing desk and shelves of bears in it. The tiny lounge was a bit of a letdown and the white carpets were scaring me senseless. It shouldn't have come as such a gut wrenching surprise then that the landlady said no dogs under any circumstances. Gutted doesn't even go half way to summing up how I felt walking away from that. House #3 - not too far away, small but with a decent garden for a marauding Yorkie. Downsides, it's on a main road and we share access, oh and the expression on the landlords face when we had to explain some of our 'circumstances' to him. Now we have to wait to hear from him. Needless to say I'm not holding my breath. It's bad enough that there is so much competition for places when they become vacant without adding the fact that we have 2 dogs, OH's excess baggage and 6 months in which to find something suitable. My biggest worry (apart from us finding ourselves homeless) is that wherever we end up I will feel bloody lonely. More bloody lonely than I feel living in this village and that's with having the Craft Coven and W.I. It's that shit realisation that I left middle England 4 years ago because I hardly ever saw a soul. Those 'friends' who were always too busy back then, or too much of a letdown have now moved away (no great loss), or have a price on my head for stealing their husband (that's what happens when you're a shit wife). When we came back this morning, one of the 'stranger' residents of the village shouted out a greeting to me as she walked her dog up the lane. Am I going to get that living on a new estate? No. Or living on a main road? Probably not. Or in a quiet village miles away from here? Who knows. I feel like we may as well move 200 miles away. I probably have more chance of finding people to have coffee or to go shopping with on another planet than I do 10 miles away. People keep themselves tucked away in their own little cliques - you only have to look at the Yummy Mummy brigade around here to see that. I spend hours scouring Right Move and then more hours thinking about the places we've looked at and then too many hours lying awake worrying about leaving here. My brain needs a deep clean, all suggestions are welcome.
On the creative front I've crocheted 2 rows of my blanket - a pretty lousy effort, and bedazzled 3 pages of writing paper for penpal purposes. I have a full inbox but no mental energy to put pen to paper and reply. I really hope that 5 days in Belgium and as much chocolate and Limoncello as I can carry will put some va va voom back into my mental being and give me a much needed kick up the arse. I need to get back to writing with sarcasm and sharing my latest loony project, not feeling down in the dumps about stuff I have no control over.

Where did everyone go?

The More People I Meet, the More I Like My Dog

It doesn't take much to remind me that people (in general) are a waste of space but this week has proved to be a double Whammy in making me lose faith pretty much altogether. When you rent property there is always some level of uncertainty in your life but tenancy agreements usually ensure that you have some back up or notice in place. Shame then that our prick of a landlord and the arsehole of a letting agent didn't bother to read the small print then isn't it. This time last week I felt like a huge hole had opened up and swallowed any thought of stability and security I may have mustered in my stupid little brain. We had noticed a lot of comings and goings at the main property for a while but the Landlord's parents (who were visiting from Banglalore) just seemed to amble along as if everything was normal and as far as we knew the LL and his wife were due back from Canada anyday. Now what could it have been that gave the game away that all was not hunky dory with life? Was it the furniture wrapped in 'international shipping' packaging? or the BLOODY GREAT shipping container that turned up on Monday? Hmmm let me think for a minute? If I hadn't asked our neighbour and we hadn't emailed the LL then I doubt he would have taken 5 seconds to walk the 20 feet to our door to say 'Oh by the way, we move to Canada for good on Wednesday'. The word 'Wanker' doesn't even begin to cover what I think about him, and as for the letting agents - don't even get me started. This is our home and we thought we were here fairly long term. Yes this place is too small and we want our own garden but that was to be sorted when it suited us and not in a hurry. It has been an upsetting and unsettling few days. Apparently we have 6 months, maybe 12. Part of me wants to give them minimum notice and go now, but I like this village. I feel part of the community - the proper one and not the smattering of ignorant 'Yummy Mummy' families who infest the place like a plague of lice. The 'Old Dears' at Craft Coven are gutted and all scurried off on Wednesday to see what they could find out about possible properties coming vacant - I didn't realise the village was such a hotbed of property developers but there you go! This lot are as close as I'm going go get to 'family' so why would I leave?

All things creative have taken a back seat as I seem to spend every spare minute trawling through Right Move and Zoopla. I did make a start on some of my 'reply' pile of mail - I have joined an online penpal organisation and they have proved to be a much needed lifeline. All I can say is that these penpal types are all mad, all geeks in the same way as me, and they are keeping me sane while life goes into a nosedive. Sadly I can't say the same about people I've known for years who pipe up once a year when prompted and who really don't give a shit about what life is dealing you. I guess I'm no longer prepared to play ball. If people only remember I'm here for birthdays (usually theirs) or as a shoulder to whinge on when their life is going crap and their other friends are too busy, then I am more than likely to give them the 2 finger salute or to tell them to do one. I have spent far too much of my time texting and facebook messaging and emailing people to see how they are and I'm lucky if I get a 4 word answer (like yesterday) once in a purple f**kin splangled moon! I mean, they do have my contact details too you know. Well no more. I know who gives a damn on a daily basis, and who will arrange to meet up (even if it's not often) and not cancel at the last minute as they've had a better offer. I may be turning into a grumpy old woman in my thinking but there's a certain satisfaction in telling these people to 'Piss Off' even if it's only in my head.

The camping weekend - blimey is it that long since I bothered to blog? - went well. The site was lovely and we weren't struck by lightening as the jolly old British weather man would have us believe. We need to plan our next destination and soon but our holiday to Belgium is only 3 weeks away and I would be happy to never set foot back on UK soil if I had my way.

This camping lark is exhausting

My latest blanket with added 'Izzy'

Holy Crap I nearly forgot. I finally got my embarrassing and pretty awful 'Ginger Minger' tattoo covered up on Friday. It proved to be fairly pain free and I'm sure they were pleased I didn't threaten to faint his time around. I still have another 3 hour session to go to add the dragon's wings and to cover the remaining pawprints, but I am pretty damn chuffed with the result so far. 

I'll almost have half a sleeve when it's finished which is just splendid though I'm sure my Mother (if she were here) would most certainly not agree on that front.

Downsizing

Every now and again I get some really barmy ideas. The latest being 'lets get a tent' instead of blowing most of the motorhome money on a cheap small camper or waiting years to afford a decent one. Fuelled by 2 bottles of wine on Saturday night whilst staying in Brighton (how the hell did I get into a top bunk?) and my friends encouragement, me and the OH headed off to Jacksons at Arley on Monday just to have a mooch at what was available. Now my total experience of tents has all been festival based, from the scary prospect of putting up a huge family tent at Reading in 1988 to the easier but cramped wonders of dome tents. If I was going to do this as a holiday option then there were going to be some home comforts.......nothing too fancy.......just an airbed, cooker and electric hook up and plenty of room....................... I think this counts as plenty of room.......

I'll admit I got a wee bit sparkly eyed in the 5 man tents. 12 minutes to put up (apparently), more like 12 minutes to get it out of the bag and then 2 hours wondering which bits go where!!!! Ok so we had a bit of a trial run and got the poles in but thanks to a rock hard driveway we weren't going to peg it out anytime soon. We're planning on having a few days at a campsite not too far away just to get into the swing of things. When I told the guy at the camping store that we were downsizing from a 25ft motorhome he looked aghast. I can't imagine why.