Muddy Lobster

Surprise

I had a lovely surprise today. I shouldn’t really be here as I’m being a very good girl and getting lots of novel writing done, but I’ve
popped by to say something to a certain someone, you know who you are:

Thank you, good luck, I will miss you. Keep me posted and most importantly, have fun. xxx

And now I must away, for I have a hot date with an exceedingly decent glass of Merlot and a mouth-watering wedge of creamy Camembert….

….See you all soon. Can’t wait to get blogging again. It’s Spring next week – yippee!

(Blimey, don’t look now, but I think I just wrote a really really really short blog. Shhhhhh…)

Teddy Bears And Cocktails

Penance for taking your children out of school during term time? To squeeze a small bear into your suitcase, photograph him doing fun things whilst on holiday with you, and talk about it on your return. I have my reservations. What if we lose him? Or he falls into the pool drunk one night? Reluctantly, I pack the bear. Eagerly, Elvis, Rafferty and I skip onto the aeroplane, ‘To Cyprus driver, Grandma’s house, and don’t spare the horses.’ Click On The Title To Read The Full Blog Post…

I Love January

The Christmas food is gone now, apart from an octagonal tin strewn only with orange and strawberry creams, and a half-empty selection box, which means that I have to go food shopping again, because a girl can’t survive on chocolate alone. Can she? The fridge is equally barren, one too many milky coffees to help soften the edges of these dank, dark winter days, and I have said goodbye to my waist, but, and it’s a lovely but (a bit like J-Lo’s and nothing like mine, which has gone from writer’s bottom to elephant bottom in the space of a quick four weeks), we have our memories, and of course, our New Year’s Resolutions….To Read The Whole Blog Post, Click On The Title…

Christmas Down At Twinkly Haven

Do you think Santa has two sacks, one with toys in and one for all the mince pies he doesn’t want to eat? Do you think that every year, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, a strange mince pie rain phenomena happens round about the early hours of Christmas morning, as Santy tips out his bag full of foil-bottomed, Mr Kipling, lattice topped rejects. Do you think they know all the houses by mince pie? Pull up at Too Much Filling Rudolph, I’ll just pop along to Tesco Value and I’ll meet you down by Rough Puff. Oh and don’t forget we’ve got to stop at F**k Me That’s Perfect, not forgetting Rich And Buttery, Dusted With Icing Sugar and Pastry Too Short. And please don’t let’s dally at Found A Hair Again and Tastes Like Cats Pee. Do you think Father Christmas swears?…Click On The Title To Read The Full Blog Post…

Nothing Is Impossible

Does anyone else feel pulled in 46 different directions right now? I have so many notes and slips and bits of paper from the school that I feel I could do justice to a small origami village, complete with people, cars and a large range of snow-topped mountains. Most of the slips of paper are demanding money or gifts, or donations or costumes. And of course there’s the little matter of Christmas, which apparently is drawing closer, as I found out to my cost at 3am on Thursday morning when I woke to a sharp nip on my arm and a small boy saying ‘pinch, punch, first day of the month mum, no returns. Can I open my calendar now?’ That’ll teach me to take out a mortgage on Lego Star Wars advent calendars…Click On The Title To Read The Full Blog Post…

Suicide Dog

The day starts with a choice: The Dog or The Cake. In my mind there is no contest, it’s the cake every time. I’ve never particularly liked dogs, mainly because they have an annoying habit of sticking their nose up my crotch, which tends to make me uneasy, call me weird (shoot me now dog lovers of the world). The dog in question is a particularly mangy looking beast, a matted old collie dog with a wall eye and faded brown coat, like a Smartie that’s had its colour licked off, with an annoying habit to boot…Click On The Title To Read The Full Blog Post…

I Love You Simon

And when I’m finished, I look like Jimi Hendrix doing a handstand, but I am satisfied and sated and spent. I have a rosy, steam induced glow about my cheeks and a whacking great pile of top notch ironing about my living room. It has been an enriching and edifying experience, and one I am keen to repeat. Sort of like masturbation, only with a pile of well pressed laundry to show for it…Click On The Title To Read The Full Blog Post…

Capability Milly

I feel upset for a while, and then, after a few more glasses of cold red wine and eight squares of Galaxy, tucked up in my snug little tent pod for the night (or so I think), I realise, it doesn’t really matter what people think of me, it only matters what I think of me, and I think I’m capable. Jesus I can bring a man to orgasm in the back row of a cinema without anyone noticing for God’s sake, how capable does a girl need to be? Click On The Title To Read The Full Blog Post…

Let Them Eat Lobster

So now we get lobster, on a not infrequent basis. We can barely afford carrots, yet we dine regularly on the food of kings, life’s great like that isn’t it, only the favours that this benefactor is after in return, are more of the sexual, not savoury variety. That person is Gabs, an irrepressible, red-blooded, half-Spanish lobster fisherman, and my secret admirer. It’s not a secret from me, just from his girlfriend. Click On The Title To Read The Full Blog Post…

The Kipper Family

And of course the house is heated by solid fuel. It took me a long time to understand there wasn’t a switch. You actually have to build a fire, and then keep it going. It involves soot and ash, and trust me, Rayburns are not best tended to in Cath Kidston tea dresses. The best bit of all is the ever present veil of smoke that hangs in the air. We’re known as The Kipper Family now and take a lightly smoked, nutty aroma with us wherever we go. Click On The Title To Read The Full Blog Post…