Category Archives: humour

It’s nearly tax return last date for filing time

14 Thursday Jan 2016

Posted by in blogging, family, humour, january, Living in France, Parenting, Parenting and family, procrastination, Raising boys, tax returns

≈ 3 Comments

Hi Blog,

Following on last year’s successful post of ‘Things that I have done to put off doing my tax return’, here we find ourselves again. This means that it is January.  I am not in full procrastination mode yet as I do in fact have weeks before the deadline of 31st Jan-submit-your-Self Assessment form – and- pay-tax- owed – else-you-will-incur-a-100 (british) pound-fine.

This might suggest that you, my dear blog, shall be fully exercised as a blog between now and that deadline.  I shall become a prolific blogger…..temporarily.

It might also suggest that my house, during my Self Assessment Submission Procrastination Period,  will get a shake up and shake out of all things unnecessary ………..’Do we need two dogs? One would cover it. I probably don’t need three children – especially as two have the same colouring and they are all the same sex. I’d better keep the Husband as there is only one of him along with the one teenager.’

The Prodigal

He lives with my brother.  This brother could be likened to Sherlock Holmes – not for his drug proclivity but for his sharp, analytical mind. He also doesn’t care for people nor parties involving people. He’d probably attend a party of him, his dog and maybe his incredible shrinking and expanding and shrinking friend whom he also refers to as Fat Pikey…..to his face.

Now – this brother (and I’m not even going to touch on my deep, deep, deep, true gratitude for him and his wife – the most laid back woman within the Northern Hemisphere but don’t cross her especially if she has her knitting needles out) is the one person that seems to tie the Prodigal up into such intellectual/spiritual…physical (?maybe – I’m not against it if it’s for the good of the Prodigal) knots that the Prodigal appears to be in control of his ……what to call them…….indulgences for self destruction.

In short, the Prodigal, is going well and in no little way is, my brother, his wife – their family, to thank for this.

The Face

As the Prodigal rises from the ashes of despair, the Face seems to be about to trip into the pit.

Did I tell you, Blog, that last November he was suspended from school?

Voicemail from the school secretary:

‘Bonjour…., blah, blah, blah..et je ne suis pas certain that I want to say zis on ze telephone but when ze Face’s teacher told ze class and one pupil in particular to be quiet, ze Face shouted out zat ze teacher should:

‘Shove a dick in ‘is arse’

Please call me back to deeiscuss.’

 

I’ve deduced (like it? The Sherlock reference?          no? ok) from data that the Face is in a gay relationship with his best friend.

The facts:

-They spend lots of time getting ready to go nowhere

-they share the same bed when sleeping at the friend’s house

-they send kisses emotions  emojis (?) to each other

and by no means the most compelling evidence:

-I found a used condom rolling around my tumble drier (I was lucky it was rolling and not indelibly attached to the inner wall of the tumbling part. I still remember how long it took me to pick off the bits of melted plastic when my husband decided to ‘help’ by putting an anti-peepee mattress protector into the machine).         

This used condom had fallen out of his jeans.   His jeans that he had worn to spend the night at his friend’s house.  And I know he stayed there  because:

Mobile phone ringing.  It’s from the Face. I pick up –

‘Hi Face, what time do I collect you from training tonight?’

‘………..’

‘the face? Are you there?’

‘……’

‘The face??? You rang me. It’s your mother.’

‘Mum? Mum?’

(it goes like this every call)

‘Yes, Face. What time do I collect you?’

‘Actually, I’ve decided not to go to training. All my friends just happen to be in the Town of Nowhere at the same time ‘

‘What a coincidence.’

‘yes, anyway, can I stay at my friend, L’s house?’

‘What? Well, how do I know that you aren’t making this up and are actually going to a pre-arranged all night drugs and sex party (or about to have physical relations with girl(s), put the used condom in your pocket for me to retrieve from my tumble drier)?’

‘Ok I’ll get my friend to confirm’ – because of course, I would believe him ?????

scramble scramble, friend arrives

‘Oui, c’est L et oui ze Face, il peut rester avec moi ce soir.’

Well, that’s ok then. Why would they lie?

As they were both telling the truth it can only mean that he spent the night with his male friend and it involved a condom.  what else can I be led to believe?      This is a piece of wind up material that both myself and my husband have pounced on and have as yet unleashed.

 

The Professor

Continues to get 20/20 or thereabouts in his tests. Continues to enjoy little maths puzzles that the husband gives him – these are normally questions from the Face’s text book. The Face is now 16.

Has stopped talking to me about football. I think this is because he has realised at the age of 9, how intellectually inferior I am to him so our exchanges are now mostly limited to

‘Where is my Barcelona shirt?’ and ‘What can I eat?’

His love life remains complicated – the girl in question loves him as well as his best friend.  I’ve found her letters to him…and you’ve got to hand it to her – she declares her love for him and him only whilst at the same time demanding that he never shows the letters to his best friend.

I need to give the Professor some singing lessons. What he lacks in melodiousness, he makes up for in volume. He has started to sing hymns. One hymn in fact. Over and over and over and over. I’m sure that the Angels in Heaven can hear him and are delighted.

The Lips

‘When can I have my sleepover that you promised me for my birthday?’

This is now becoming a daily question.

To be fair, his birthday was in September.

As honesty is the best policy (or in other words, the fobbing off was only accepted by him for 3 months), I suggested:

‘The thing is, Lips, your friends are basically a massive pain in the arse.  If they were well behaved, I would have had them over ages ago.’

He nodded his head and agreed.

Does this mean the end of the question? Probably not.

Fatty

Youtube – we watched it together a few weeks ago.  I have to admit that I have an interest in all things slapstick so FailArmy normally gets a viewing from me.  One clip showed an angry faced, big boned American woman stomp up to a car and shouted in the open window:

‘DO YOU HAVE CIGARETTES ?’

Shocked and surprised, the passenger replies ‘No, and I don’t even smoke.’

‘WELL, FUCK OFF!’

We all laughed. I felt a moments shame as I was the responsible adult in the room and I laughed harder than my four children whilst trying to convey that you must never say that and it is bad, bad, bad….

Fatty laughs

he runs out of the room to my husband, sitting at the table:

‘Papa? Papa? Papa?

‘What, fatty?’

‘FUCK OFF‘

to my continued shame, I laughed again and harder but tried to cover it up with my hand and jumper.  Very convincing.

 

 

So anyone who has managed to get down this far – WELL DONE! Don’t I go on?

Here’s a photo of something that made me laugh and at the same time, compelled me to buy it……..actually, as my procrastination is not in Full Mode yet, I can’t be bothered to load the photo.  It was a bar of chocolate called ‘Sports chocolate’.

Here is another photo of the Pyrenees at dawn (2 hours drive away hence the dodgy photo with my 200mm lens when in fact, I need a 2,000,000mm lens). Relevant? not very.

Thank you for reading. And expect another blog tomorrow or as soon as I start my nightly Self Assessment Form panic attacks.

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Various from the re-Crippled

19 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by in accidents, family, holidays, humour, Living in a village, Living in France, osteopathy, Parenting, Parenting and family, Raising boys, renovations

≈ 2 Comments

(For anyone that i’ve emailed this week, don’t bother reading this blog as I’ve already exhausted your sympathy with my moaning about my back. For anyone else, read on and sympathise!!!!!)

Blog, good afternoon and a g’day to all of my followers especially Story time with John and Felix O’Shea (maybe not a follower but now that I’ve applied some pressure…)who between them have given me some (blog) laughter on an otherwise pain filled Sunday (except when Fatty ran into my room, stumbled and 3 of his toes ended up inSIDE the posterior of the sleeping Lidl Supermarket Dog… rude awakening indeed. Entre nous, I also laughed whilst watching the Gumball cartoon on Cartoon Network even if the kids weren’t there. Bloody funny that show).

Crippled Again

Life can be cruel.

So, as I knew that Fatty was about to start school (and I’ve been waiting three years for this to happen), I ordered some new running shoes expecting to be able to run a marathon in the way that some men of a certain age still believe they can fit into their 20 year old, size 28 waist jeans? Actually, no. Optimist I may be; deluded? I wouldn’t say never but only rarely.

However, my super duper run like the wind shoes remain unused as:

5 months on from The Stone Steps Bounce and near Ruin, I find myself immobile again. At least it’s different this time. If my spine were representing a letter from the alphabet, it would be an S…….could be worse….could be a Z …heaven forbid, a W.  Funnily enough, I’ve learned from the tongue yanking, ear shoving, coccyx tickling experience with the local osteopath (see post The long road to recovery) and will try a new guy on Tuesday. Watch this space.

s shape spine

 

The 5 boys – an update

The Prodigal

Out of sight out of mind. Sounds harsh? Ok, he is in mind but as I can’t see or hear what he is getting up to, I can’t worry too much about it (except in the long, dark hours of middle night).  He has moved into a flat belonging to some person who lives somewhere in London. ‘I’ll give you my mobile number when I get it. mum’ and ‘yeah, everything is great.’

As with the osteo appointment; WATCH THIS SPACE

The Face

Has been gallivanting in style. Most of his summer was spent in England and he enjoyed two weeks in Sri Lanka.

‘How was it, Face?’

‘yeah…..it was ….erm…….yeah, it was hot.’

I’m hoping that at the start of this new school year, we reach a break through on the understanding of what is homework and what is revision and the difference between the two.

‘So, Face, do you have lots of homework AND revision for this weekend?’

‘Nah, I did it on Thursday.’

Start as you mean to go on, why don’t you.

The Prof

Has started a new school.

It is a Catholic school, in fact but that’s not why he chose it (unless, there is more to him than meets the eye. Mother WOULD be pleased to have, if not a son who is a priest but a grandson).

Although I was brought up Catholic (and let me tell you that one day soon I shall blog about my childhood memories of our family praying together activities……yes, all 8 kids and parents – especially during the month of MAY), the Prof has only been inside a church a handful of times so I’m fully expecting to find him doing some Mass research from the ‘R.C. guide to Mass Etiquette’ prior to his school’s welcome mass next week.

child and bible

The Lips

Still making dark paintings and drawings. Spends lot of time alternating between cuddling Fatty (and who can resist all that softness? All that softness yet what a very foul mouth) and punching him. I guess it’s good training for Fatty’s introduction to Ecole.

 Fatty

‘Mum, your legs are SOOOO SPICEY!!!!! You LOOK.LIKE.A.PLANT!’

A picture of me, second one in from the left:

cactus legs

 

Well his Dad (whom he revealed was actually Michael Jackson) who lives in England now has a wife………yes……called Mum.  Fatty was talking to them both on his plastic telephone and passed me over to them.  It was very much a one sided conversation which I terminated after a few pleasantries.

The next day:

‘Hey Fatty. How is your English dad and mum?’

‘They’re dead.’

—

‘Eye spy with my little eye, su’fing that is yuk’

‘We don’t know Fatty. What is it?’

‘Papa’s arsehole’

I’m relieved that at our local school, the English speaking teacher isn’t there until January.

Upcoming posts:

Catholic family prayer (not to be missed)

The nearly drowning dog, part II

and my thoughts on the recent scientific achievement of brain to brain transmition of thought……actually, I won’t write that down, I’ll just think it to you.

Blog and readers, happy Sunday to you and hope that you don’t get that Sunday evening ‘Haven’t done my homework feeling’ that some decades after leaving school, I still suffer from………unlike my eldest children…….they haven’t done their homework but they don’t suffer from the feeling!

 

 

 

 

Happy holidays

19 Saturday Jul 2014

Posted by in family, humour, Living in France, Parenting, Raising boys, renovations, teenagers and alcohol

≈ 1 Comment

Bonsoir Blog,

Slack?
Very

Promises of regular blogging?
The road to hell is well paved.

Here in the year 1904, summer is being enjoyed.
Oh!
Hang on – did I say 1904? What I mean is living as if I was in 1904 -when this house was built – but without the conveniences of staff….. And a well kept holeless roof – it could be called old fashioned air conditioning?

Still – a summer holiday washing up for 6 at a sink which is so low, Im already resembling a hunchback (yes, a very old fashioned idea – washing up by hand!) 3 times a day is a change from loading a dishwasher for 7 (yep – you’re on the ball ce soir; Le Prodigal has removed to Angleterre) and we do have electricity and 4 channels on the tv but no phone or, horror above all horrors, no internet.
We threw a bed away today. The mattress was stuffed with horse hair – you get the scene?

This evening we tried for the 9th time to try and catch the sunset at the beach.
There have been various obstacles which have prevented this simple yet fulfilling and soul refreshing activity.
Tonights?
Lidl Supermarket Dog enjoyed her first freestyle swim in the sea.
She swam.
She swam further.
We felt a bit uneasy.
She swam further perhaps to make the first canine attempt at swimming the Channel.
The husband stripped down to his underpants – ‘im going in’
We screamed her name.
She swam.
He waded.
She swam.
LIDL SUPERMARKET DOG!!!!
Fatty screamed as i pulled him from the water to strap him into the buggy to avoid a 2nd near drowning as I had to go in too – with a leash.
I must point out that I did not strip down to my pants as by that time we had an interested crowd.
I left Maisy the now very smart looking dog in charge of the kids and in I went as The Prof incessantly chanted ‘she’s going to drown. I told you she would’ and Fatty roaring ‘i want to go in with you and Papa!!!’

It has a happy ending. Although that walk home in our clothes soaking wet as the storm started behind us, felt LONG:
Finally she saw the leash and swam near enough to be grabbed.
By way of thanks, she left me a sea enema deposit in the sand to clear up and I suspect similar greetings in the morning.

Sunset tomorrow?

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Between some stone (stairs) and a hard place

19 Saturday Apr 2014

Posted by in accidents, humour, Parenting and family, Raising boys

≈ Leave a comment

Blog,

This is how my Tuesday began:

I push off the covers and sit up. Have no idea of the time but the full moon is on the left side of the window which means it’s before 5 a.m. (yes, I use my bedroom window as some kind of lunar clock….doesn’t everybody?).

I don’t feel well and rush out to the bathroom which is about 5 ft from my door.

Simple enough movement

Unless

Your balance lets you down and you manage a sideways cartwheel veering left and down the stairs (stone).

Legs go over my head as I roll down.

photo-11

-Do I call out to my husband? I decide not. His laughter at seeing me halfway down the stairs in an unladylike pose will wake up the village. Also, I still need to pee. Also, I now think I need to vomit. Even more also, I might need to…..        I remember thinking ‘if only there was a sink 1/2 foot away from the toilet and then I could manage all evacuations without having to clear up any spillages’

I’m naked.

The sheer potential shame of one of the (elder) kids coming out and seeing me and my bodily fluids all about the stairs gives me some strength and I CRAWL back up and into the bathroom.

-‘do I sit on the loo or lean over it?’  – when I ask myself this question, I think ‘which one would i prefer to clean up?’ – so I lean a bit and then sit.

I said SIT.

At this point, I’m not feeling my best so think the sensible idea is to get back into bed.

Except, the next thing I know, I am looking up at landing skylight and wondering why my husband is calling me and trying to lift me up.

‘my face feels weird’

‘love, what are you doing on the landing floor? I heard a crash. I thought that the roof had fallen in,’ (this said with a French accent).

Even in my concussed state, I remember thinking ‘Hey! I’m not THAT heavy!’

To faint, mid walk is not good for your brain. It is also not good for the box of tiles that my head hit on the way down – a novel way of cutting tiles but not very precise.

We saw the doctor who said ‘mon Dieu’ and laughed.  This was the preferred reaction. We were worried that due to the previous Adventures (Delusions) of the Prodigal, she, the dr., might actually think it is the Husband bashing his wife and step son and sirens would soon arrive at the surgery.

So, moving on (almost):

WHEN I get out of bed, I have to shuffle because of sore everything,  whilst skimming the wall in case I fall over as I’m now suffering vertigo.

This means that I can’t do much (no driving, cooking, cleaning, shouting – yep, it hurts when I shout)

This means that the Husband will have to do much whilst fussing over an invalided wife.

This means that the wall (garden, see previous moans blogs) will not be built.

This means, that luckily the Husband has another week of the Face and Lips at school before half term so hopefully I will be recovered to take back the domestic responsibility? Well, it would

except

a note posted on the school wall yesterday says ‘the teacher has fecked off. So those families who can keep their children at home (that’s only us) next week, should do so’ – a two week vacances begins a week early. How nice!

I would have laughed but it hurts.

Ok Blog, I actually had loads more to write (about the Adventures of the Prodigal; FAtty’s potty training and the Gourmande Lidl Supermaket dog (these are connected); the attendants to my sick bed (the black bitch twins but one is there only to root out and much nicorette packages) but as my head is a bit turny, I shall say au revoir.

People out there – it’s true what your mum says about stairs. They ARE dangerous.

p.s. did I mention the little bit of rose, that I had drunk some hours before I had my descending cartwheel? Non? oh, probably not connected then.

Edit? you know the score. Someone do it for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sprung Sprang Sprong Spring

10 Thursday Apr 2014

Posted by in family, humour, Living in a village, Living in France, Parenting, Parenting and family, Raising boys, renovations, teenagers and alcohol

≈ 2 Comments

Well Blog,

What a day. Has your day been like that? IS your day currently like that?

Let’s have a photo of something peaceful to calm down any unhappy spirits:

Image

 

Did that work?

Not even a little bit?

Then we’re all doomed to depression.

Anyway, moving on:

In this old stone (crumbling) abode, we have had a (half) week of peepee and caca.

If it wasn’t Lidl Supermarket Chain Dog with a urine infection? Bladder control? Bad manners (certainly) then perhaps it was Fatty pushing the limits of his Freedom of Nappy Bottom Phase. There has been wee every-where. I have been walking around with an old rag (actually, the husband’s favorite item of clothing – it would be hard to distinguish the two) and disinfectant spray. It’s got so bad that I think the villagers are dropping in just to pee on the floor. I exaggerate NOT.

We’ve also had more poo munching by the said dog; taking toilet paper (used and a deep shade of …..brown) from the toilet (‘but I always flush the chain, mummy’), a bare bummed Fatty squatting in the garden and releasing his bowels without getting any on his trousers …….or so I thought.

Until,

‘mummy, I wet my trowlers’ as Fatty comes in with his feet apart and his lower body resembling a triangle.

‘all right (feckin feckin feck). Come over here and I’ll take them off…..and your wet shoes and weewee socks”

‘are you cwross, Mummy?’

‘no, fatty but next time, tell me.’

So I cuddle him as I put him up onto my knee, lift up his bum to pull down his ‘trowlers’ and ‘oh, but what’s this on my hand and jeans? I didn’t give you any chocolate, Fatty? AGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Yuk!’

“mummy, are you cwross now?’

The Husband

has gone to Paris.

Yep.

AGAIN.

I know.

The other one is far more demanding and alluring than moi.

Never mind, it’s not like he left half the garden wall pulled down and unfinished and not like he left a power drill switched on in the area that Fatty plays. No…..not like that at all.

Normally, when the Husband is gone, the Prodigal behaves.

I said normally.

But not this time.

The Prodigal

If I could package him up in a box and another box and another box and then cellophane (industrial strength) it, put a chain around it and padlock it and then send it (the box) to a destination 1,000km west of, say,,,,,Sydney……then I would!

I get home at 10.30 this morning:

‘what’s wrong with you, Prodigal?’

‘You’ve come home.’

Great. I can’t say our exchanges got much better from there. Still, it beats him tapping his fingers on the kitchen table (incessantly) for around 15 mins on Sunday when I accused him of having drunk alcohol.

He denied it.

But then he always does.

He gave me some words of wisdom. In his denial of having drunk alcohol and generally tripping over his sober…..yes, sober words, he told me: ‘You’ll understand when you’re older.’

Yep. My 18 yr old said that to my 41 year old self.

The Face

Has fans.

Yep. Two girls from the village who hung around (for at least an hour) the (broken, unbuilt, unsecured) garden wall JUST to get a glimpse of him…….. I’m presuming it’s of the Face they’re interested in and not say, the builders bum showing, half naked, wild haired husband. Well, there is no accounting (none) for taste.

The Prof

Has yet to edit his latest love letter to his amour. Currently, he signs off saying:

‘It’s been ages since you rubbed me’ – we need to work on his spelling – it’s not what he meant to say (I hope).

The Lips

Told me not to worry that I couldnt’ remember something as ‘you don’t sleep too good.’

what an understanding child. Funny though, because as he said it, I swear I saw him smile towards his father in a ‘check out the mad old bat’ (yes, each insult has it’s own facial expression).

My parents

Visited us.

I enjoyed that.

We even left the house and ate in a place called a restaurant. Not once but twice.

Fatty

yes, I know that I covered him (and he covered me) earlier but I’ve just realised that he has been asleep for 40 minutes and it’s 5.20 p.m. MERDE!

I’m signing off dear blog/readers/weirdos

but I shall leave you with these wise words:

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

(that’s here as in the village of Nowhere, SW France).

Who will edit this post for me?

 

 

 

 

 

Aside

An addition to the family

18 Tuesday Mar 2014

Posted by in humour, Parenting and family, Raising boys, teenagers and alcohol

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

,

Good morning Blog,

Time check: 6.20 a.m.

Is this the best part of the day? Not from where I’m sitting especially from where I’ve been sitting started just after 5 a.m.  Why thank you, Fatty.

Remember the blog ‘And then there were three’?  – well, let’s just say ‘and then they were 5 plus 1 dog……plus another dog’

Oh yes, blog, we now have 5 boys and 2 dogs.

This new dog, also a black labrador and with a name that is almost identical to a supermarket chain, (Lidi…..sounds like Lidl to me) is untrained.

7 months old it has been used to ruling the roost, dog kennel, human dwelling, jumping up and scratching, sitting up at the table, evacuating its bodily waste wherever she likes (it’s a girl at least. I need all the female support i can get in this oh so very testosterone household). In fact, her behaviour is very much like that of the boys – so she’ll settle right in.  And on the plus side, she doesn’t leave dirty washing EVERYWHERE…….yet.

Q&A when bringing a new dog into the home

Do you know how far red wine flies when your glass is knocked by an airborne dog as you sit on the sofa watching tv?

No?

I’ll tell you. It can cover an entire sofa, part of a (new) rug, two pairs of jeans (being worn), a dressing gown, a pair of Ugg boots and a t shirt.

Do you know how much weight a floating, unattached pool cover can take?

No?

It can take about 25 kgs of dog. A dog who tried to walk across water.

How many children can fit in a dog cage?

Three. A 7 year old, a 6 year old and a larger than average 3 year old.

DSC_1829

Coke is it

So, I have to let you in on a little secret and enjoy the benefit of my parenting skill, fails experience:

If Fatty doesn’t sleep during the day (and let me tell you how many times I BEG him to) then, as you most likely know, by 5 p.m. he is like an unleashed demon on anabolic steroids as we try to keep him awake.

In order to keep him awake until 6/6.30 p.m., I give him a small (oh and very small as let me tell you the mistake I made after giving him too much…….Camera 1, time: midnight – scene of Fatty running around and around the kitchen table) amount of coca cola – the official brand, and not Mc Donalds own cola.

This normally cuts it until 6 at least.

The other day, I opened the can, put it out of his reach (really Fran, did you REALLY put it out of his reach?), went off to run his bath, came back down and who did I see emptying the last of the can into his plastic cup?

Fatty: 1 Parent: -10,000000000000000000

DSC_1800

the Prodigal

So with the imminent arrival back from holidays of the Husband, the Prof and the Lips, the Prodigal decides to unravel by taking the key of the locked office, unlocking it and taking out plenty of the (hidden) alcohol. Not the bottles – as I’d notice too easily – no, he decides to put it in the kids’ water bottles. Oh yes indeed. AND, he leaves these ‘hidden’ (boys can’t hide things as well as they can’t find things) in the garden and in the house.

Smart on so many counts? hmm.

Whilst he is on this roll, he decides to begin cutting through (I had to look that up – ‘through’ as I’d written throw and then threw…..Jesus!)  the tv power cable so that some of the copper wires are exposed. He then gets bored of that and tells the Face to plug it back into the tv and switch it on. Luckily, the never present electrician had recently updated that part of the electrics and the house didn’t catch fire….never mind, the effect it would have had on the FAce’s hairdo.

To be fair, he only left the iron plugged in once these last two weeks………..  and the glass cake stand which he smashed half of? well, only one person cut their hand on it as he left it where it was.

Today, we (me, Husband, Fatty, the new (untrained) dog and the Prodigal) go to Toulouse to see the psychiatrist. Call it a Mental Health Day Out. Actually, this is the Prodigal’s first session with a professional (other than chatting with Dr. Frances in my sister’s garden….thank you for that, Dr. I didn’t yet receive your bill).

I’m slightly concerned that us as a collective (Green snot faced not very charming Fatty, the Husband wearing his usual attire of paint splattered everything, the Prodigal looking like a Russian peasant, the untrained Dog and myself) will present an ‘interesting’ first impression…..

Coming Soon to a Blog in Front of You:

My next blog (maybe tmrw – what a treat for you!) will be about my brother, Fingers.

The question of Nationality

Max Clifford’s equipment (transcript from part of his recent court case)

So, keep well dear Readers and I’ll be back soon (unless the psychiatrist admits US today).

 

Exchanging wine for a boomerang?

12 Wednesday Mar 2014

Posted by in current affairs, humour, Living in France, Parenting, Parenting & family, Parenting and family, Raising boys, teenagers and alcohol

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

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Howdy Blog and a very warm welcome to my new followers – may we enjoy 1,000s of blog entires together….

I’ve just lost you haven’t I?  You can’t answer as you’ve already spaced out and moved on to a better, brighter, funnier, more insightful Blog – in case you’re waivering, I’ll insert an extraordinary picture (which truly has nothing whatsoever to do with this post):

Image

Things we now know that we didn’t know last week:

-Passenger planes can just vanish OR Governments/Army/Navy can not tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth….or nothing at all, as in this case.

-When large lorries, travelling at speed in the middle of a country lane where the road narrows, break hard and quickly, they skid for about 20 metres…..you can also smell burned rubber for about two miles further on up the road…….or was that coming from my foot as I JAMMMMED THE ANCHORS coming against the said lorry, with no where to go but a wall or a river?

-Bob Crow died. Who are Daily Mail reading London Tube passengers going to moan about now?

-When you invite lots of people to your house, perhaps consider that they might all turn up so be prepared – that showed me, didn’t it? And them…..

-When people (moi?….jamais) say ‘I’m going to sell this baby’, they don’t really mean it and the person they are having this lighthearted exchange with, REALLY shouldn’t take it as literal……because….I wouldn’t have sold the baby, I would have given him away.

The Family

I can feel that you are all desperate to hear news of the 5 boys and the Woofy?

So are the local police.

All right, all right:

The Prodigal 

I’ve not managed to find ONE empty alcohol container over the past 3 weeks. This means that

a)he has turned a corner and given up or

b)he is getting better at hiding them or

c) my eyesight is getting worse

d)he sneaks back into the neighbour’s house and ‘steals her wine and leaves his boomerang’ (her very words to me via a charming email about teenagers and alcohol and the dangers and how my son is leading her daughter astray….I should probably return the favour and reply with a charming response warning of the dangers of teenagers and say….oh…..marijuana and how her daughter is leading my son..if not, astray, then stumbling slightly off the Path towards the Righteous Parent? But I’m not enough of a bitch…actually, I am….but my Level of Bitch in French is pas bonne.  In English or French, I still cannot grasp what she meant by the boomerang – it’s probably the same case for her).

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The Face

‘Prodigal, does that make me Jesus as I cured your jaw when I kicked a football at it?’

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The Prof

Dunno as I’ve not seen him for nearly two weeks

The Lips

ditto – i do hear though that they (the Prof and Lips) have studied hard and are getting more serious about knocking the hell out of each other.  I’m very much a stand back (and block my ears and eyes) and let them get on with it . Up until blood is spilled or worse,  they’re about to break something I like, then I’ll step in.

Fatty

Turned 3.

‘So Fatty, remember we said that on your 3rd birthday, you are going to throw away all of your dummies (soothers)?”

‘I DON’T WANT TO BE 3!!!!!!!’

He made me think of how his father is when he has run out of Nicorette gum. I found him searching under things; lifting things up;looking looking looking looking with that crazy, addict look and yearning for his drug of choice (sillicone in his case).

He found one in the car and knew he had conquered and crushed my No Dummy Phase I stage (little hands clamped around a dummy have a strength that surely goes against all physiological possibilities).

Later, I found him face down on the floor under his little table……face down to hide what he had in his mouth.  No Dummy Phase II stage destroyed.  In the Tug of Dummy which occurred after this:  Fatty’s grip 1  Mummy 0.

Things that Fatty says:

‘Can I open more presents now?’  on waking up the day after his birthday.

‘if a shark wanted to eat me, I would turn into a snowman.’

And,

‘Fatty, where is your other shoe?’

” is it behind my ear?’

The Woofy

She’s getting a bit porky around the middle but that’s not surprising as she spends most of her time hanging around Fatty who has an extremely generous  nature especially with a packet of biscuits and his breakfast, lunch dinner, knife, spoon, fork. He is also generous with sharing his sword with the Woofy ‘see she likes being hit with it.’ and sharing his sense of fun as he pulls her tail and goes ever so near to her ‘what’s that mummy? is that where her baby comes out?

‘GET YOUR HAND OUT OF THERE NOW< FATTY!!!!!’

OH and better not to forget, The Husband

Is still away. yes, I know, he has been away rather a lot but at least this time he took 2/5 with him. I know that you are wondering if he’ll buy me another family pack of chocolates by way of a present from his holidays. I’m feeling lucky. I think that he might.

—

Ok, thank you for reading. Feel free to leave a comment – if I don’t like them, I won’t approve them…..I HAVE the Power!!!!  Also, as I’m not going to edit (EVER) feel free to make the corrections. I’ll read them, take note and then empty my brain of them.

So, I’ll leave you with a line by one of my all time favourite characters (plus he reminds me of my brother, Fingers):

You can lead a horse to water, but a pencil must be led.

Batty Woman’s Day

08 Saturday Mar 2014

Posted by in humour, Living in France, Parenting and family

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

old-lady-2

I stopped to fill the car with petrol.

This takes some time…….and money…. in fact, so much money that it would probably be cheaper to hire a chauffeur.  And yes, this time I did remember to use the right fuel. I know that I did put petrol in a diesel car once – I remember. My husband reminds me regularly (EVEN THOUGH it happened 3 years ago).  He remembers with fondness….I can tell….that day that I turned up in a taxi, barged into the house and said:

‘there’s a taxi waiting outside to take you back to Nowhere town.’

‘Quoi!!!??????’

‘The car isn’t working. It’s full of shopping. It was making a really funny noise’

Pause as he takes this in.

‘Oh and I think that I filled it with unleaded……I realised so stopped driving (after about 2 miles). Can you go and sort it out? ‘

ah….such lovely memories.

Anyway, getting back to today –

So I queue behind one woman at the pre pay pump (as of course, I have a right hand drive in a left hand drive country and she is at the pump I need).

She is having difficulties with the instructions. Do I help? No I blardey don’t. I change pump terminals (you know what I mean).

An oldish lady pulled up to use the other side of my petrol pump terminal (what is their proper name?).

She got out, looked at the pump, looked at her car, looked at the pump.  Here we go, I say to myself.

She opened the boot. She pulled the petrol pump towards the boot full of shopping. The celery shuddered. The baguette sagged. I thought to myself ‘ooh, very novel. That car takes petrol via the boot. Nice idea’  (hang on, which one of us is batty?).

Meanwhile, the lady on the pre payment pump is trying to stick her card into the paper dispenser….

My old lady, looks at the pump, looks at her shopping. Looks at her keys. PUts back the pump (yep, it does take this long to fill my car. Indeed) and then ………well, I was done so we’ll leave you with that cliff hanger. Suggestions via the comments section would be gratefully received. A ball of string and a pair of marigolds to the funniest answer.

Happy Woman’s Day!

Mouchoirs, tissues and misleading packaging

28 Friday Feb 2014

Posted by in humour, Parenting and family

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Bloggy, how the hell are you?

I bet that you are taking my recent silence as a good sign? A sign that all is well with the 5 boys, dog and Le ‘usband?  You’d not be far wrong:

There haven’t been any tricky exchanges with the Prodigal; the Face continues to frustrate me with his refusal to comprehend the difference between homework and revision but this will be a battle for at least another 3 years. I’ll never give in; the Prof continues to be (a) smart(arse) but kind – kind to the point of being a doormat sometimes. In fact, what do you do? Do you try and toughen him up? Or do you leave him the lovely way he is so that some cow of a woman walks all over him later in his life (aren’t I going to be an accomodating mother in law?)?; the Lips continues to score High Points on the Rev-o-meter of Fatty; the Fatty continues to get revvvvvved up by the Face and regularly tells someone (me? no, of course not. He tells me that he is speaking to the spider) to ‘SHUT UP!’

Supermarket packaging

So at the cash desk, unloading (somebody else’s – it’s possible – I did take the three youngest) trolley and I realise that I have forgotten THE most important item on my list – given the amount of snot there is within the family – tissues. 

‘Prof/FAce, go over there and grab me some mouchoirs (I say it in French just to be sure there is no misunderstanding).’

Off they run, full of brotherly love and care…….grabbing, pushing, tripping, scratching, tipping over trolleys, running into old women – in their bid to be the first one to bring back the tissues.

‘Here we go mum. We;ve both got some’

‘ah…..haha…erm (blush)…they’re not mouchoirs. put them back (without being seen) and try again.’

What they’d brought me was 4 packets of sanitary towels. I guess they would be more absorbent for the snot – perhaps we should have stuck with them. I could have attached the wings around the back of their heads, the pads on their noses…….it might just have worked…

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Blog – this was a quick visit. I’m over and outing and off to the (not very) big City to collect the Prodigal. I’m not hopeful about the state he’ll be in as he left the house with 10 euros and works within spitting distance of Aldi  – the retailer of 32 cent beers. Jesus!

Adieu.

A bientôt.

SEE YA.