All's happy in...

our world...

me, Ted, Belinda (aka WSD)

Hope it is in yours?

I must be getting old...

to be orgasmic...

at the return of Hubs from shopping, with...

a set of double-sided pastry cutters.

Is this the end?

In my long and busy life, I have never been the proud owner

of any cutters, always using glasses, you know the sort...

pints for the bottoms, wine glasses for the tops.

My ecstatic response was greeted with 

a crest-fallen face.

'If only I'd put them in the end of her stocking, instead of the banana and two nuts

she usually gets.  Christmas morning for me would have have reached new heights!'

briefly flitted across his physog!

Happy Days!

One thing I wish I hadn't said...

in 2012...

'Wash your mouth out!'

and only this week to the specialist

(I know he was an expert in his field, cos his title was Mr.)

as I swept out of his room, 
after his ever so gently suggesting me take some pain-killers.

He had just injected my 'badly thumbly' with

Steroid stuff! 

I had taken Hubs as my translator, mediator and all-round good egg,

by means of damage limitation.

If only Mr. Arth Rightus had been an ace in the area of...

opening your mouth and putting your foot in it...

the job would have been a good'un.

However...

tales with happy endings only

occur in fairy stories.

More regrets, mishaps and funny things that 
have happened in my world this year...
to follow...

I'm off to the thumb hospital today...

I've finally succumbed,
su-thumbed even!

Such a piffling thing...
the pain...
and me always boasting of having a 
high pain threshold.
Not a bit of it...
quivering pathetic wreck, more like!

Any road, what decided it, was the thought of having to choose
between a wet shave, strop, cut-throat razor, you know the one?
Or sensuous, slippery, slithery shaving oil;
a Van Dyke, a Roy Wood (remember him?) full set,
or my current modus operandi...
a cactus impersonator.

In short...
me thumb can't pluck
the offending hairs, bristles
and hairy hemp that insists on
sprouting on my chinny, chin, chins!

Wish me luck...

I said to my new found friend...

as we sat partaking of a leisurely luncheon in 

No 8,  Gillygate, York, 
'I've looked high and low for the elusive Nilly Hall!'
' I know her!' 
she dropped like a bombshell into the conversation.
Peeling myself from the linoleum...
(well glasses of wine had been 'drunk')
'Wot?'
I replied in my very best Estuary English...
(Kentish maid... Dartford born and bred... me!)
My gob had never been more smacked.

I ought to explain...
Had a 'orrible feeling you would!
My new found friend is Jean*
ebayer extraordinaire
who I met eons ago, 
when I bought the most wondrous
carpet bag. 

A carpet bag Aladdin would have  
been pleased to carry, business class of course.
 I have never been disappointed by my purchases from jbugsy1, 
her generosity knows no bounds.

Knowing I was coming up to York, I sneakily 
bought some fabric from her.
' Don't send it!'  I airily replied.
'Save money on the postage, I'll meet you in York!'
No guesses whose gob was smacked this time!

' Oh shit!'  
reverberated all the way from Leeds to Kent.
She had no escape, poor lass.

Nilly, my advice to you is... hope I never find you!

* Jean lives in Leeds; don't be put off by her listings having 'from Turkey' on them.  

There is obviously a glitch in ebay's system.

Errr... I've just hit the link and no blooming mention of 'From Turkey'.  The glitch is obviously in my system... no surprise there LL!

Brace yourself folks...

I can feel one coming on...

unfortunately...
please can you wait until inspiration strikes.
It is Friday night after all and 
 anytime now, I will be looking strangely like this.
Minus the fags naturally.

Watch this space.

Toodle Pip!

***

As I said to my friend, only the other day....

'Use it as pot-pourri in the loo,

for those times,

 when you have a particularly fragrant poo!'

She had arrived at a girly luncheon I was giving,

armed with a carrier bag of goodies she had

been conned into coughing up 60 quid for, in an Egyptian souk.

  In fear of having their throats cut, they decided to cough up money, as opposed

to clunking big fat globules of blood.  

Thinking that, as I used to cook for a living,

I'm the world expert on all things culinary...

I would know!?!

Now I pride myself on being an expert on eating,

not the same thing though is it?

Peering into the Lidl carrier bag,

I could instantly see that, not to put too finer point of it...

they had been had!

'A friend said the bag of saffron is worth

hundreds of pounds!'

And indeed it would, if it hadn't been...

a particularly fine variety of, 
what I must say, did vaguely resemble

saffron... 
Old shag tobacco more like.

'Look lassie you've been conned,
shagged even, however I think the
£60 is a small sum for the enjoyment you will
get from recounting the tale in the years to come!'

'And another thing...
as you depart from the loo give the
pot pourri a goodly stir, 
and bask in the glow of all the money you will save on
those fancy air fresheners that go poof at each and every movement!'

Last night was a mixed bag of emotions as,
dressed to kill, thrill even, in
liberty bodice, big pink bloomers, biker boots
many and various layers I plied my final wares up at the church.

Looking for all the world like Del boy's ageing assistant
I manned my 'Poundstand'  
'Everything must Go' crafting swan song.
Our village had a Christmas Late Opening night,
crafting and carols in the church, washed down with mulled punch.
The shops spilling out onto the pavements, hot dogs aplenty.
Even the chemist selling 'Dr.Hauschka...
gathered by a virgin in the morning dew' was doing a roaring trade.
All was good in the world in the highest village in Kent.

Today I feel strangely...
FREE! 


Where and what to do next that's the big question?

In the meantime I'm off up to York,
bearing gifts, meeting up with pals old and new,
drinking, laughing, reminiscing...
All's good in my world.

***