Oh the shame...

...yesterday I was in the library looking at cookery books. There was a bright pink book called "how to be the perfect housewife" in the section which looked very inviting being big and pink and shiny and I thought it would be a laugh to see where I was going wrong. So I get to the issue desk and hand over my ticket. The librarian gets to the pink book and VERY loudly goes "Ooh the latest by Anthea Turner!! Are you a perfect housewife then?!" (while looking me up and down, I was wearing my "rock star t-shirt" and cut off trousers, no slacks and shirts for me Anthea). She might as well have put the tannoy on and gone "this lady thinks she is a perfect housewife AND she borrows books by Anthea Turner!" At this point I couldn't admit my mistake and go "ooh I don't really want to borrow it thankyou!" and instead pretended I had chosen it especially. I took it back today, I couldn't have it in the house when I flicked open a page telling me how to make my own beeswax and also to clean the fridge at least once a fortnight...something tells me I am not the perfect housewife. But I do make mean muffins.

Bye Carol!

Ooh the scandal. Carol Vorderman outrageously shunted from her role as maths expert/letter putter upper on Countdown. I knew it had to come sooner or later. Someone in power finally realised that being good at maths (but rubbish at sticking letters on a board) isn't the same as being God. Carol was way too smug these days, trying to outguess the contestants, making flirty jokes with Des, trying to get as much camera time as possible. In those outfits?! She must have been mad. If she was being paid shedloads then she wasn't spending it on clothes, most probably on vodka. Nobody is bigger than the show they work on, despite how long they've stuck it out. And yes I am sure there are loads of sad old men writing love letters or sending maths porn to lovely Carol, and the highlight of their day is watching her reach up to put letters on a board, but her time is up.

What would she do now? Mmm, it's a tricky one. Making the most of her skills (maths) and failings (dress sense) the obvious answer would be a quirky maths teacher in a girls' school. Watch out public schools of Surrey...

No! ( I mean yes, or probably...)

Baby Babs' latest word is "NO!". He knows lots of other words now but has started using "NO!" in response to every question. He obviously doesn't know what it means yet though as cunning questions reveal:

Mum: "would you like some chocolate?"
Baby Babs: "NO!"
Mum: "you are proving yourself wrong by stuffing it in your mouth there dear, perhaps you meant "yes"?"
Baby Babs: "NO!"

Nanny: "Do you want to go to the park?"
Baby Babs: "NO!"
Nanny: "So the fact that you are waving your shoes at me and standing by the door is a coincidence then?"
Baby Babs: "NO!"

Also every vehicle he sees is a "car". And every man is "Daddy" which can prove rather embarassing when we are walking down the street and he shouts "Daddy!" at every man we pass, like I've asked him to pick out a new Daddy.

...on food prices

Yesterday a bog standard supermarket own brand loaf was 65p. Today it is 72p. How?!? It actually makes more sense to buy a proper lovely tasting loaf now as they only cost 80p. I'm happy that I no longer feel forced to buy the cheap nasty bread and can revel in wheaty loveliness, but my poor shopping budget is screwed. And don't get me started on milk and cheese, I'm looking at getting a cow, that's all I'm saying on the matter...

Cop-out endings...

Bleeding authors. It takes me a lot longer to read a book nowadays (it used to be about a week if that, now it's into months) so I am very picky about what I decide to read. I like Barbara Erskine and when I saw her latest in the library I was very excited. 2 months later I finished it and it was SUCH a letdown!! I wasted all that time. She writes historical novels where characters in the present day are taken over by the spirits of long dead angry people who want to avenge something or other. The main characters secretly love each other but the spirits make them fight, then at the end they are freed and go "ooh I love you" and it's all happy! This one wasn't so bad, the suspense was built up really well, all the characters were suitably possessed and taken to some important place where it all happened originally, and then it got to the climax. The possessed characters are all together trying to kill each other or escape. But then a local priesty bloke turns up, shouts "evil spirits begone!" or some such rubbish and poof! they were gone and everyone is back to normal. HOW could it be so easy to beat them? The whole book was going on about their powers and the characters couldn't possibly fight them etc etc and all it took was a priest in a bad mood shouting at them. Pft! That was a cop-out if you ask me, Ms Erskine couldn't think how to finish it so just gave up. I might write to her and complain...

I have no idea what to read next, it's ruined me for other books.

Judge John Deed

I'm in court tomorrow as the star witness in the thieving bastards case. It would be lovely if Judge John Deed was in charge, he'd make me feel less scared and probably take me for a drink afterwards. I'm torn between excitement at the whole process (my life is all dirty nappies and Big Cook Little Cook at the moment) and terror. It's not a massive criminal case and it's against a 12 year old, but I have visions of the lawyers shouting at me like they do on the tv and convincing me I didn't see what I saw. It is all clear cut to me in my head, but what if they start throwing questions at me and being mean? I might handle it confidently and say what I saw, then again I might just cry at the nasty man being mean to me. Then again, I might recognise the lawyer as I was a law librarian once upon a time, and remember he couldn't even work a photocopier, then I won't be so scared!

Neighbours, everybody needs good neighbours...

Our neighbours are moving. This fills me with dread. They were ok as neighbours go, they have 2 kids who Baby Babs likes to shout at through the fence. And annoying relatives who turned up every bleedin' weekend and scowled at us in our own garden, I won't miss them. But who will we get instead? Going on past history one of these:

a) A young couple who don't give two monkeys about their neighbours and play loud loud music at all hours and have screaming rows in the street.
b) Proper Essex family with scary daughters who wear not very much, smoke out of the bedroom window and have screaming rows in the kitchen.
c) Someone who likes cars and spends all weekend tinkering with a knackered old Ford stuck in the garden.
d) A family with loud barking dogs, probably rottweilers, who scare the beejeezus out of Baby Babs.
e) Weird Russians who shout loudly and threateningly in Russian. Oh hang on, been there done that...

Oh joy. Luckily I am friends with the noise police, and these days I don't hesitate to get on their case. I just don't want the hassle. At least if you were renting you knew you could move relatively easily.

Sweet old ladies...

Conversation at the till in a Savers shop in Essex...

Boy behind till: "That's £3.69 love"
Old lady: "WHAT?"
Boy behind till: "That's £3.69"
Old lady: "HOW MUCH WERE THOSE TISSUES?"
BBT: "Er, £1.49 love"
Old lady: "I DON'T WANT THEM! I CAN GET THEM IN THE 99P SHOP!!!"
BBT: "Oh, ok, I'll take them off. That's £2.20 then love"
Old lady: "WHAT?!"
BBT (clearly getting annoyed now): "That's £2.20"
Old lady: "HERE YOU GO THEN"
BBT (looking relieved it's nearly over): "Here's 80p change, thanks love"
Old lady: "HERE! WHERE ARE MY TISSUES?! I HAD TISSUES IN MY BASKET!!"
BBT: "You didn't want them love, you put them back"
Old lady: "OH FORGET IT, I'LL GET THEM SOMEWHERE ELSE"

Old lady starts shuffling off, whole queue behind her starts shouting at her, she's only gone and left her shopping on the counter and is too deaf to hear them. Intrepid Bookish Barbara, despite the obvious risk to herself, taps the lady on the shoulder and gives her the shopping.

Everyone sighs with relief. She has left the premises. Boy behind till has a "I don't get paid enough to deal with this shit" expression on his face. but he wins the prize for patience!

Essex mothers

A conversation at a mother and baby group:

Mum A: "Eeeeer, what did you get up to at the weekend then?"
Mum B: "We went to a paaartay, yeah, and after a few smirnoff ices we all got our boobs out yeah, it was WICKED!!"
Me: "????!!!!???"
Mum A: "Wicked yeah! I love my boobs, they are really firm, yeah, even since I had Jordan, I wore a bra constantly for 6 months after I had 'er"
Mum B: "Ooh, yeah, they are lovely, mine are saggy, I can't do nothing with 'em"
Mum C: "I've started my diet today, haven't I? I only had 2 packets of crisps today. I'm only a size 16 so I haven't got that much to lose"
Me (in head): "A size 16?!?! I don't bleeding well think so love!" and "?!?!?!?!"
Mum A: "Ooh yer are doin' well, I'm doin' aerobics at the church hall"
Mum B: "Ooh I hate aerobics, I get all sweaty and bored. I like dancin'"
Mum A: "Well I like it. Did I tell you we just bought a new kitchen?"
Mum B: "No"
Mum A: "Yeah, AND we are going to America next month, I'm going to buy SO much stuff, we're so rich! Did I tell you Jordan's outfit is from America? We had it sent over special like"
Me (in head:) "Kill me now. Please."

Did I miss something?!

I may be getting old, but exactly which part of Amy Winehouse's Glastonbury "performance" was a "triumph" exactly?! Me and Lady L and our other halves watched it on the tv (too poor for Glasto tickets) and she was shocking. She mumbled the words, staggered around the stage, and talked incoherently for an hour. The only bit where she made sense was when she punched the fan who tried to pull her hairpiece off (though we were willing it to happen). She was on the Nelson Mandela gig the day before and was just as bad. But people are describing it as amazing and brilliant. She needs help, not people letting her go on stage in that state for everyone to gawp at.

None of the bits of Glasto I have seen have made me wish I was there. Mark Ronson was ok, but Lily Allen turned up to do her song and hadn't bothered to learn the lyrics. She said she "hadn't sung it for a while", but surely she must have been asked to do it a while ago. She could have spent 5 minutes swotting up before swaggering on stage and saying to the people who paid £200 a pop "oh I couldn't be arsed to learn them, and I can't be arsed to read them off this sheet either so why don't you all sing it instead?". Pop stars. Pah.

When me and Lady L went to Reading it was so different. Rock stars threw poo at the audience, bands were brilliant, people rolled around the site in bins. Dave Grohl licked the camera. Ah those were the days...

Skater grannies

A news story today really made me laugh! It appears that since OAPs got free travel on buses, they are really taking advantage of it and there isn't room for other (paying) passengers to get on the buses. And the coach firms that like to do OAP trips to Bognor Regis or wherever are losing business. I can just imagine people standing at the bus stop waiting for the number 102 which flies by full to the brim with oldies mooning out of the back window and dressed like skater boys and girls! Old age is the new teenage it seems, teenagers are too busy stabbing each other to get the bus anywhere fun.

Crime doesn't pay

So to update on my criminal involvement, the thieving Dad is in jail having pleaded guilty to the theft (and lots more besides I shouldn't wonder) and the 12 year old boy is in court next month. The only problem is that I have to go too as a witness. I really don't want to be involved, who knew just writing a number plate down would cause all this hoo haa? If people knew they probably wouldn't bother, which is a shame. And I now have my relatives scaring me with "they will find out where you live and get revenge" comments. I don't know how true that is but I am a bit worried. When they describe what happened it wouldn't take a genius to remember where it was, as the gear was so specific, and hang around looking for me. But what choice do I have now?! The thieving gits aren't getting away with it. My only hopes are that the boy is so thick he really wouldn't remember where it was, and my fake moustache disguise...

The onset of immediate depression...

...comes when someone who has just used your bathroom chirps up "ooh those bathroom scales are brilliant, they are about 1/2 a stone out!"

Crap.

Eurovision and pirates!!

This year's Eurovision was bloody brilliant! I so wish we'd had a party and that Lady L and I hadn't had to resort to a breakdown of the acts by text message! I was torn between the Latvian pirates and the Finnish rockers. Rock! I so want to move to Finland! They weren't quite Lordi, but they were quite Iron Maiden which was cool. And as for Latvia. Anyone who is prepared to go on tele in front of millions dressed as a pirate and singing "hii hii hey" while dancing round a wheel gets my vote. There were loads of acts I could have voted for this year which makes a change.

But it was all marred at the end by the stupid political voting that meant Russia won when clearly they were pants. I never understand it. Are the voting public in countries like Serbia and Latvia forced at gunpoint to dial the number for Russia when they wanted to vote for Iceland, or is there no public vote at all and it's all lies?! And if so, when did the Eurovision get so important that whole countries resort to skulduggery and secret meetings ("if you vote for us this year, we'll give you free tickets to the do next year") to sort out who is voting for who this year? It was most upsetting that they upset poor Terry, who was totally disenchanted with it all and threatened us that he might not do it next year. Terry!! How could you? But the countries that put most money towards it, us, France, Germany, Spain, will probably think about not paying for it in the future as our chances are so low, and that will mean we will lose our automatic places and never again qualify for the Eurovision. Then nobody will bother watching it except for all the Eastern Europeans who have hijacked it. It's a sad old time for the Eurovision. I've just depressed myself writing this. And I was so high on Euro excitement! Damn those ice skating weird tight white pants wearing Russians and their political ambitions.

Shopping nirvana

So the other week I realised that a) we had £80 of John Lewis vouchers from our wedding (in 2005) and b) we didn't have much money. So this led to c) ordering the weekly shopping from Ocado. Marvellous! I hadn't used them before mainly as they seem v. posh and expensive. Now I have and can't possibly use them again until we're rich again and it's awful. It's like having candy taken away when you're a small child. I kind of wish I hadn't experienced it. They definitely win the customer service award for online shopping, and quirkyness.

The morning of my delivery I got a text message. This reminded me it was coming, that no items were missing, the name of my delivery man, the make and model and numberplate of his van. I was surprised they didn't tell me his blood type or favourite sandwich filling.

I got a call a good 45 minutes before my slot from Kevin the driver. He said he was "running behind" to which I immediately though "uh-oh". But no! He actually meant he was running ahead, and could he come round now? Of course you can Kevin!

Then when he turned up he gave me a whole welcome speech, a breakdown of how all the food is packed and arranged, and what the colour coded bags meant. He looked very upset when I said he could just leave the bags in the porch and I'd take them through to the kitchen. I wasn't being rude, I'm just used to Tescos.

And I got a free packet of something I ordered by mistake! Though when he'd left I guiltily wondered if it was a test of my suitability to be an Ocado customer. If I tried to order again I'd probably be told I wasn't honest enough and to go elsewhere!

This is not a paid advertisement for Ocado by the way! I'm just a sucker for expensive food delivery and lovely food! It was so upsetting when we ate it all and had to go back to "basics" bread.

The fuzz are getting so much younger...

Yesterday I had a knock at the door, and looking out of the window I saw 3 young men dressed in denim with tattoos. On opening the door, I expected to be asked if I wanted my windows cleaned, or my roof replaced. Only to get a shock when one (who looked about 15 I swear!) flashed his badge and said he was the police following up the thieving bastards from last week. Bless! They were so young! I didn't take them seriously at all, preferring to regale them in how funny the boy running to the car was. They did laugh but then said "we'll come and take a proper statement soon". But now I'm worrying I can't remember exactly what happened, or what the man looked like really. What if they make me do a line-up?! Why did I get involved?!

Or does their youth mean I am getting old?

A rude awakening...

...being given a live beetle while you are lounging in bed.

Thanks Baby Babs. You wanted me to get up then?

The thieving bastards!!

I just looked out of my window, like you do, and thought "why is that fat boy walking up and down the road so many times?". Why? Because his dad was coolly loading his boot with stuff from the builders' van parked on our neighbour's drive, that's why!! I managed to get his number plate so hopefully they will catch him. But what a nerve!! In broad daylight too! A couple of our other neighbours walked past him while he was at it and he was calm as you like, and a man was cleaning some windows right next to him. The boy wasn't in school 'cause of the voting, you can just imagine the scene at breakfast time. "Son, what would you like to do on your day off? Go to the park or come robbing with your old pa?". The funniest bit was when the old bloke gave the boy the nod - he was the lookout - and shouted at him to get in the car. He was so fat he couldn't run very fast, I think he will prove to be the weak link in that thieving partnership...

Let's all live in a cave

So, mortgages are sky high (if you can get one), food is getting ever more expensive, bills are increasing every month. It's so depressing. I am going to start my vegetable patch so we at least have something to eat! Potato and carrot soup every night for the indefinite future it is then. I did want to lose weight...

But apparently clothes are getting cheaper. Don't eat or use your electric, go shopping instead! It's warmer and you might get a nice jumper for when you go home.

Librarian in court shocker!

So it turns out that the person who has upset JK Rowling so much she dragged him to court was a school librarian. Typical! I can totally imagine the scenario, by the sounds of it he ran a bit of a geeky website all about HP, and some canny (or wily if you prefer) publisher saw it and thought "marvellous, easy money!" and suggested he publish it. Would you turn down the chance of publication if you had it? Apparently he said the publisher assured him that it was all fine and dandy and he'd be a billionaire within the year. But instead he's been dragged to court to be made to cry in public and his heroine now hates his guts. Poor sod. I am quite sure it was all innocent and he was just a super enthusiastic fan and now he's been made to look really evil to all the HP fans. Where would you hide? But I mean. He was a school librarian. How calculating could he have been really? I ask you.