Celebrity Big Brother

Dear All
Well enough of Country Craft Markets. I feel just incensed enough to join the 'debate' over the latest Celebrity Big Brother shown here in the UK.

Yes it's getting a mention even from me......

All the stuff in inside the house is nothing new, bullying seems to be the show's forte. No the thing that has erupted into my life is one Gordon Brown proffering comments on it.

Shut up you stupid man.

How can we have an idiot like that in charge of our country? No seriously, I mean it.

He should have waited to hear if the police were to make any charges before telling all to vote for Shilpa. We need an experienced Leader of the Country, and he has just proved he isn't. His vanity has gone too far. I don't doubt he's a 'good bloke', I simply question his ability to run a beleagured nation. His comments were ill advised and tantamount to incitement of violence.

Back in the house:
Jermaine Jackson was guilty of racism right from the start, his comment to Shilpa at the start, 'I'm glad there's another person of colour here' I find offensive. He did have some funny moments, not least because he looked totally like a fish out of water. I guess his family upbringing allowed him to get through difficult scenarios.
Dirk Benedict just played a poor game and highlighted the difference between Americans and Britains. One thing I enjoyed travelling in the US was the cursing/swearing/cussing is not acceptable or used that often. In the UK we tragically have a different attitude. Dirk's criticism of Danielle's swearing was a culture issue that he didn't understand
Cleo Roccos, what a sweet lady. Didn't like confrontation clearly. Do you really need the money or the showcase??
Ian H, who is he?? An affront to all my fellow Welshmen. Did he really think we didn't know the simpering twit wasn't gay?? Sneaky little teachers pet. So shallow and bad actor. The crying to camera with a picture of close friends or family didn't work with me mate. Maybe you could get some acting lessons with the money you earned.
Jo, I don't think she's racist, just thick and smiokes far too much when she's nervous, which is all the time
Danielle, just another young, pretty, thick wannabe. Sorry why is she famous?
The rest I can't be bothered to talk about....
Really because I'm gonna get kicked off the Libray computer any minute......

What I wanted to say was I found the bullying of the page 3 girl in last years Celebrity Big Brother far far worse and yet nothing was done about that. Where was the Nation then? Are page 3 girls deserving of this for God's sake? Pete Burns and George Gallway were worse than anything I've seen to date, I was deeply offended by their bullying. Why was that different?

No, please tell me cos I'd like to understand

And Shabaz, in a recent 'ordinary' Big Brother, he was treated apallingly by a baying pack of degeneates, why wasn't this attacked by the Nation? And again why wasn't the race card played then......

How is it okay for Simon Cowell to speak to contestants the way he does? And what about Gordon Ramsey?

Why are we allowing this to be accepted.

Can we please please just stop all this reality television.

Afternoon tea at the Ritz

Well folks it's all okay, I am still in existence! HAve had a few technological hiccups recently, including lack of access to this here Internet....

I'm back in the library this glorious morning, sun shining, crisply cold and my Darling Daughter and The Boy are, apparently, hot footing it toward the library to see what keeps good old Nanna here for a whole hour at a time. Well it took me 18 mins to get into the new version of Blogger so they might see a deranged granny spitting at a computer.......

Thought I'd let yall know how things have been.

The Military Tour went....well.... not well exactly.....more like it just went!

Recap, 3 Womans Institute (WI) Country Craft Markets happening on same morning with 15 minute gap between each start.

I arrived at Karen H's in the Tiny Weeny Little Red Hire Car ( TWLRHcar) ((sold my car to travel to US, keep up, keep up!)) in track suit and Merrills with my plan. KAren H appeared at the door with comfy shoes as instructed and a loose fitting jacket, for all that elbow room. Suspect it was also to provide movement around the bandage applied after yesterday's debacle.....

'Okay our strategy is clear; Dorking first at 10am, park in Waitrose (supermarket) at the rear. We race in, scan the room, buy quickly and leave, drive the 6 or 7 miles through country roads and infamous 'black spot' dual carriageways to get to Bookham by 10.15am. Get there in time to queue up and get £5 ($10) from the Change Lady, race straight to the flowers and vegetable section, scout around then jump in car and race off to the Leatherhead market for 10.30am, covering 2/3 miles on windy narrow country lanes, heading straight to the cake stall.'

'Mmmm'

'Okay with that?'

'erm, yes, yes.'

'Great, jump in.'

'Mmmm, it'll be great.'

'Now, we haven't got any time to dawdle'.

'Mmm, great......'

Anyone who knows me, knows that dawdling is my forte, getting places on time, remembering dates (yes yes CJ) is, well, not! The drive to Dorking is not without small distractions; elderly senile drivers (ESD's) changing lanes with no signal, ESD's driving in 2 lanes at once, ESD's driving through red traffic lights. ESD's full stop! We arrive at Waitrose car park and there is a queue to get in. Blast. This is NOT on the plan. We get to the front of the queue within 1 minute, still okay for time.

'We can make it up inside I'm sure'

'uuuuh, really??'

I ignore Karen H's waivering, we WILL achieve this.....

Mop Haired Young Car Park Attendant (MHYCPA) raises his hand imperiously so we see his palm, indicating I presume we stay still.

I smile.

I smile and hope that The Boy doesn't grow up to be a Car Park Attendant.....

I spy an empty space and gesticulate to MHYCPA.

MHYCPA ignores this and keeps his hand up. I suspect that MHYCPA has smoked so much marijuana he is on a different planet let alone time zone.....

I frantically wave my arms and hands in the direction of the vacant space. It's no good the vacant brain is unable to activate. I put the car in first gear and move forward. MHYCPA moves forward.

'OMIGOD don't kill him'

'Thats a little dramatic don't you think? He's so stoned he only thinks he's reached the car to stop us...'

'This'd better be worth it...'

I silently agree......

We get out the car and run past MHYCPA

'We're only supposed to park here if we go into Waitrose'

'Relax we'll be 5 minutes'

Dorking WI CCM has 2 rooms. Impressive so far. we go through the first room where the tea and coffee's are being made. I notice they give a little fairy cake with the biscuit as we rush through to the main room. Dorking is a large town and I have high hopes for local produce here. We stop dead in our tracks, the room is big, very big and there are 3 tables dotted around with hardly any produce. What on earth is going on??!

Then it hits us

The rancid smell of stale urine......

We hold our breath and run like the wind; past the veg stall with bunches of yellowing leeks, past the cake stall with rows and rows of flat rock cakes, past the knitwear stall with mittens and bedsocks made up with multicoloured remnants of old yarns, past MHYCPA whose hand is still erect and into the TWLRHcar and drive like the wind to Bookham our second stop.

We are in and out of Bookham WI CCM with hardly any note. No cut flowers, obvious at this time of year I guess but I had wondered if someone might try a little arty combination of twigs, shrubbery and the like.

We are doing well for time.

As we drive down the hill on the outskirts of Leatherhead town, we point out, as always, Michael Caine's primary residence. We giggle to each other, from this position it looks exactly like Tesco supermarket on the other side of town. Ugly, really ugly.

Suddenly a Volvo estate overtakes me and the car in front. You know what they say about Volvo drivers...... Karen H tells me it's Someone Or Another (SOA) ((the name doesn't stay in my head)) and she's off to the Leatherhead WI CCM. Blimey she drives like a nutter and I bet she'll be all sweetness and light when i see her.

We get there at 10.23am, it's okay as we can still pick up a chicken, eggs and a packet of fairy cakes. Phew.....

'Right I'll get the tea, what biscuit do you want?'

'Hmmmm, let me think. Mmmm. Not sure. what do they have?' I say loudly

'Well you remember' says Karen H quietly through gritted teeth

'No I don't, can you tell me?!'

'Fine'

said with narrowed eyes....

'Custard creams, Bourbon, Malted Milk and Garibaldi'.

'Oh, no digestives??!'

'yessss, do you want one?'

'No thank you'

'Fine.'

'No I'll have a Custard Cream....

I hear a funny noise coming from Karen H.......

Having secured a corner of a large table (I'm learning fast) by placing bags on 2 seats I sat down as Karen H languished over the plant stall. SOA thuds a book down on the table on the spot I'd reserved for Karen H as she goes off to get a tea. Ah ha! A confrontation.
I move the book .
SOA comes back.
I look up and smile.
SOA goes to speak.
I still smile.
SOA falters.
I look away.
SOA takes her book and wanders off muttering.

Suddenly grey haired elderly ladies talk to me.

I have been accepted!

I am giddy with the excitement of it all. Karen H comes and sits down having witnessed the momentous event from the back of the hall. SOA is apparently a rude and bossy lady that instills fear into the throng of little old ladies. I have seen them at the cake stall at opening time and i'm not sure I can agree with that!

Enjoying my new elevated status I decide to try out dnr's suggestions. There is after all a couple of gentlemen in the hall. I lean into the small hard backed chair with an air of French sultry decadence. Picking up my custard cream I gently part the biscuuit revealing the soft cream inside. Bowing my head slightly I begin to delicately lick the cream raising my eyes every so often towards the Distinguished Gentleman on the table next to me. I am a vixen. A sexual being. I am Angelina Jolie, Madame Bouvary, all women.......

'What the hell are you doing?!'

'Erm dunno, dunno'.

'Well pack it in you've got crumbs all over your chin'

'Shit'

'I've got a baby wipe in my bag'

I bend down and fumble in Karen H's bag, I take out the packet of wipes, put them on the table as I flick back my hair. Unfortunately SOA is walking past and I knock her book out of her hand as I flick my hair, the baby wipes fly across the table and knocks over Karen H's tea.

I cringe.

Karen H glowers at me.

Distinguished Gentleman (DG) picks up her book, places it in her open hands with a twinkly smile. SOA smiles back.

Damn SOA.

DG turns to me.

'Are you okay my dear you look like you were having difficulty with your biscuit'

WHAT?

'No I'm fine, thank you'

'Shall we go?'

'Absolutely'

You know next week? I'm not sure I want to stop for a cup of tea.........

Tour of Duty

Hi yall

Today the sun is not shining in Surrey, England but I know it's as shiny as a button in Tucson...... Why do we have that saying? Are buttons always shiny? I don't really like shiny buttons actually, mostly they detract from the garment.....anyway....

Yesterday I pledged myself a mamouth task. A visit to not one, not two but three WI Country Craft Markets! One can only guess as the marvels to be had. I was truly giddy from the anticipation....

On Thursday I had lunch with Karen H; we ate homemade chicken and vegetable soup, bread and a banana on a tray on our laps as we watched Neighbours, an Australian soap, on the television. (Good God it's high time I was gainfully employed once again....) Karen H has these wonderful leather chairs that open and extend, providing much comfort to my expanding calfs (or should that be calves, or is that the baby cow??) from total lack of exercise. Lunch eaten we took out our knitting and settled into dull domesticity. I'm knitting squares, lots of them, with the intention of sewing them together to make a blanket. It was blowing a gale outside, raining and dark. Much better to be inside in the warm snuggled up on the large expanded chair with a blanket over my unused legs. We broke for a cuppa an hour or so later and I, craving a distraction, read the local paper.

Mmmm, local house prices continue to rise.
Hmm, another local yob has been in court for drunken assault.
Oh, the local butcher is retiring after 30 years
AH HA!
...there are more Country Craft Markets in the area........

Absurdly they are all on the same day. And, all in the morning. Being all within an 8 mile radius of each other wouldn't it be a better idea, certainly more commercial, to have them on a different day? Or even to stagger them throughout the day? Ah well what do I know.

I check the opening times

They ARE all staggered. Well sort of. Opening times have15 minutes between each one. Ah ha, suddenly I feel a plan outlining.

I throw off my throw, jumping up with such sudden force that Karen H stabs herself with a knitting needle and dropping stitches that have now been attributed to my flightiness. I realise that this plan can be achieved if we stick to it with military precision. Karen H cautiously agrees as she mops up a small flow of blood from a yet to be discovered portal.

I have renewed vigour, assuring her of its success as I pick up a tissue and plug it into a small hole on her forearm.

Karen H yelps, mustering a 'well, let's see how we feel in the morning'

Underterred I look at her paling face and decide I will not take no as an answer as I drag her into the kitchen to run her arm under a tap of cold running water. Karen H winces and agrees as she pulls her arm away from me then clambers on a kitchen stool getting out her first aid kit from the back of a cupboard. I take the box from her and hold her elbow as she gets down, managing to grab her bleeding forearm with my other arm, mistakenly of course. Karen H positively grimaces. I ferret through the first aid box looking for something, not entirely sure what something but know it will be obvious when I see it.

I offer to apply something.

'Here look this is a tube of cream, will that do?'

'No'

'Okay how about this bandage?

I drop it on the floor

'Ooops'

Karen H takes the box from me

'No'

'It'll be fine, it's only the outside that will be dirty.'

'Dirty?!'

'Uhhm, what about those little plaster things? You know the strippy things that you put on. You know when you should have stitches. What are they called? Do you have those? They're really good'

Karen H slumps on a kitchen stool

'You look very pale'

'Steristrips'

'Eh?'

'They are called Steristrips, the little strippy plaster things, and yes I have them and no I don't want them'

I think that Karen H's teeth are just slightly gritted as she fiddles with the first aid kit.....

Karen H used to be a nurse and I marvel at her capabilities with a bandage, cotton wool and a pot of sterile water.

'Would you like me to call an ambulance, or take you to hospital maybe?'

'No... thank you, I'll be fine........ you just go back to your knitting..........'


I did and alls well that ends well, our Military Tour will be reported on next time......

Soon to be forgotton

Well time flies when you're not connected to the Internet.........

Last Friday I DID call into the WI country craft market. Waited patiently and silent in the lobby. Noticed that Youngish Large Lady with Long Lank Greasy Grey Hair has cut her Long Lank Greasy Hair.

Short.

She is now Youngish Large Lady with Short Greasy Grey Hair. I don't think she went to a hairdresser. I think a friend cut it. Straight round, deep pudding bowl style. YLLSGGH makes conversation with the stalwart eldery ladies, and they respond!

Well I washed my hair this morning (Tuesday) and will see if I avoid washing or brushing it whethere that'll be enough to illicit a 'hello'........

Once inside I sped on my trusty Merrells and acquirred the last chicken, half a dozen free range eggs. Oh and a packet of 4 little butterfly cakes for coffee with Karen H, who was at home suffering with a frightful cold.

Didn't have time for tea and custard creams, maybe this week....

For those of you who have been subjected, nay apologies, reading this Blog for some time will know that I gave up many things to travel over to the US last year. Including my home. I took up residence in shared accommodation to save money. Well time has come for me to say farewell to what has been an interesting year of shared bathrooms, fridges and car park spaces. I like my flatmates. A lot.
I don't however like my Landlady and Lady in Downstairs Flat.

Landlady may wear lipstick, earrings and speak with a forced Surrey accent but she is a slum Landlord in reality. The accommodation is truly atrocious and houses transient peoples for a period of time. No one else would take up residence! It has been an extremely interesting experience, a source of great tales for the future.

Having dispatched the Not So Dear Old Lady from the corner shop with an official police caution I felt ready to tackle the Lady Slum Landlord. I sent her a letter listing a number of issues that required addressing and we were all summoned to a meeting. Having previous commitments we were unable to jump at her request to meet that afternoon and settled on a meeting in her house last night, some 2 days later. Lady Slum Landlord opened the door without a smile and ushered us into her 'study'. What she studied in there I couldn't fathom. It was baron of books. Just pictures on the wall of older children, a desk with piles of paper, a glass topped rattan coffee table with the glass set aside against the wall and no chairs for us to sit on. The study, or perhaps it should be the 'office', led onto a conservatory and from there Lady Slum Landlord (LSL) began to fetch in chairs.

An offer of help was refused.

We sat on the chairs arranged in front of her desk. LSL sat imperiously on her chair behind the desk, patially blocked from my view by the piles of papers and reading light.

I remained resolute.

I looked at Sarah and Geetha and suppressed a giggle, the fact that we looked like we had been summoned in front of the Headmistress was not lost upon me, and clearly Sarah and Geetha.

We sat in the study for over an hour referring to the points in my letter and her responses. Not a cup of tea in sight. LSL's husband appeared and waffled on about locks, immersion heater costs, insurance and probably other things but I had switched off.

The man is a buffoon.

He is vastly irritating and I was no longer enjoying myself. Time to go.

Sarah and I clambered our moss and algae ridden metal staircase to fall into our 70's original kitchen for a well earned cuppa. Particularly me as I had spend nearly all the time talking......

Darling Daughter confided that she has been flabbergasted that I have lasted so long there!

On the 19th Feb I shall take up residence in my new abode. I will be reunited with my fine bone china, silver cutlery, Cuisinox and le Crueset saucepans. But most importantly I will be sleeping on my own bed again. The one that cost £3500.00 and I only slept on it for 6 weeks before it went into storage.

And my books! I'll have my books again...... I'll have all my shoes, boots, handbags, suits, jewellery, dresses, underwear.... oh God I think I have overdone it, I'm coming out in a huge hot flush.

Seriously!

Right off to climb into the 70's pink bath to catch a dribble of cold water from the hand held shower spray....................

hey ho

Dear All
Okay, nearly Friday again and I'm a wondering if I should pop along to the WI meeting again. Keep thinking of dnr's comment on the last posting. I might just full of mischief and then we'll see where we go........

From the 17 Feb I shall be back online full time - oh the joys!I have so missed being able to access the trusty old Internet whenever I wanted to.

Just another quickie......sorry xx

Crafty

Dear UK
You are really doing your best to pull me back aren't ya?
Dear US
I've chaicked, I cn still maanage a Tennessee accent so arm still oh kay.......

For those of you that have been with me from the beginning you will remember the tales of the Country Market or the Womens Institute as it used to be. (The Holy Grail post, in Agust 06 I think) ((If I was clever I could do a link!)) Since the sudden and sad demise of Mrs Kennedy I became disillusioned with the affairs of country crafts; homemade jams, cakes, homegrown vegetables, flowers and the like. Leatherhead (isn't it a daft name US?!) holds its Country Market on a Friday and trying to avoid any confrontation with the Less-Than-Dear-Old Lady who insists on parking her car at the end of my road blocking any traffic in or out, found myself walking, or rather drifting, past the Church Hall that housed this wonderous event.

More on Less-Than-Dear-Old-Lady later........
Being a little early meant a queue inside the ante chamber (well really a drafty corridor) before an 'open sesame' at 10.30am for the wonders inside. 12 school like chairs were pushed up against the walls. An array of jolly, elderly ladies with woven shopping baskets perched their plump forms onto the faded and scratched plastic seats. With the exception of an extremely large younger lady (ELYL), with greasy long grey hair hanging over her face, she unfortunately couldn't get her plump form on the seat and had to balance what must have been one buttock on it and propped herself up with a leg, acting rather like a tent peg.

I sat down and kept my MP3 player (pink naturally) on. Kings of Leon seemed the right thing to listen to at that moment........

I felt the need to break the silence. Off came the music. Enter another jolly elderly lady.

'Please have my seat'
'Oh no dear, you keep it'
'No, please, really I've been sitting all morning.'

I get up and single jolly young lady won't take my seat.

'I should be standing anyway, probably better for me. '
Why did I say that? What on earth did I mean!!
Room is silent. 24 eyes blankly stare at me.
Say something, anything, just SPEAK
'I'm looking forward to this, must be the first one of the New Year'
Good grief you imbicile.......

They all look away

'Oh I think Doreen is first in'
Yes, well I know I'm third'
Oh here we go
'Are you 4th Sylvia?'
'Yes and Mary is after me'
'What 5th? '
I remember this now
'Well who's 6th?'
'I think she is, at the end'
'Oh she's got a stick hasn't she'
What? She can hear you you know, she is only 4 seats away!
'She's not so good at the moment'
'Shame'
For goodness sake...
'What's the matter with her now?'
'Don't know, think it's her hip'
You could always speak to her and find out....
'Oh'
'Or maybe she's had a fall'
Oh for goodness sake!
'What number am I again?'
'Well I'm last ladies...'
Have I got my invisible trousers and top on today??

But hurrah, I have my trusty Merrells on and when the white coated WI lady opens the door to shout 'Open Sesame' (figure of speech, remember!), even though I let all the old biddies in before me, I whizz past them and get to the vegetable stand before them. Shame on me....
Well there was only one bag of spinach and I got it. Hooray for me....

I look at the cake stand. I can tell at a long distance glance that Mrs Kennedy is gone. But not forgotton as far as I'm concerned.

I buy a cup of tea for 50p (26cents), delighted to discover it comes with a biscuit. I have a choice; custard cream, hob nob, garibaldi or bourbon cream. Mmmm, so much choice......... I elect to try a custard cream and pop in onto the saucer as I take it over to the table I've chosen to sit at. Well I say 'chosen'. It's the only one that hasn't got a bag displaying some sort of temporary ownership. It's the table right at the end of the hall, out of the way of people and stands of homemade wears. It has got a colourful strippy seersucker cotton tablecloth.

I place my shopping, a chicken from a local farm, the spinach and a pot of jam that will be relgated to the back of the cupboard as soon as I get home, on the seat next to me. I then put the cup of carefully balanced tea on the table. Wooosh. The teacup tips slighty, sending most of hot liquid into the saucer and instantly dissolving the custard cream. Blast! I look up. Yep, the entire hall is fixated on me. I smile. They do not.

I realise that is is clearly the wobbly table and at the end of the room for that reason.

I take out a magazine from my rucksack. (Yes I'm still using it!) I fold up a thick piece of paper and wedge it under a leg and smile again at all the very helpful people still staring blankly at me as I sip the last few dribbles of tea in the bottom of my cup.

Oh drat, I just remembered, I don't really like spinach...............

Yikes, no time

Dear All

Today is 'Back To Normal' day. Festivities over and done with, people back to work, depression setting in. Normally I hate January, it's a month I find soooo hard to get through. This year I thought would be fine, you know cos I still have the memories of my trip and the recent festivities. More to the point cos I know I was returning to the US.

I've checked my bank statements. AAAAAAAAGH, what the freaking hell has happened there?

I went a little wild the last week it seems. Panic I suspect!

Now it leaves me in a real quandary. What do I do? I really don't want to stay here. I just NEED a few more months travelling in the States. Why oh why do they make it so difficult for me to work out there. I only want a little job, just for a little time. Honest. No really I do. I need some income.

If the illegal immigrants can do it why can't I? Cos I'm frightened of being hauled off by some gun totting officer of the law........

Bugger, run out of time in the library cos I was looking at Corporate companies. Why? Well now I haven't got time to explain....................