My blog needs my nan in it, my nan was a legend, I think you would have to go far to come across a character like her again.
My nan was very pretty and took very good care of her appearance, I cannot remember a time that my nan didn’t have her hair, nails, make up, clothes all perfect. She loved a drink and a cigarette, and a good time.
What I loved about my nan was that she said it how it was, she didn’t mince her words, when you went to visit her she would have no qualms in telling you that she didn’t like your new hair cut or that you had put on weight. You knew where you stood and you always knew if you wanted advice on a new outfit she would give you the truth no matter how brutally honest it was.
Every Christmas nan would sit by the fire at our house and drink Baileys, I’d be topping her up and listening to her stories. One night at ours, I had been too efficient at my refilling duties and when nan went out for a smoke, she fell head first into the black bin bags outside the back door. Now this isn’t funny, but what was funny was the tea bag that had got stuck on her perfect curls right on top of her head and she hadn’t noticed. Into the kitchen she walked, to a roar of laughter and applause.
Nan loved cats, she really loved cats, she had great names for her cats too, there was ‘Prudence’ ‘tiddles’, ‘Spike’ , ‘Tommy’ and my favourite ‘Spadgey’. One time Spike was ‘off his food’ and I went up to take him to the vet with nan, when I got there Spike looked like he had minutes to live and we rushed him to the vet. Ive never seen my nan so upset, it was awful, the vet said that he should probably be put down but my nan begged him to do something, so he was reluctantly put onto a drip and kept in overnight. The next day I went back up not expecting the poor cat to be alive and somehow Spike had pulled through and we took him home. Spike went from strength to strength and even outlived my nan in the end.
Sadly my nan couldn’t be with us forever, she was a massive part of my life growing up and I hope I grow old in the same way she did.
The X Factor has started again this year, I don’t know whether it is just me or does everyone that watches the show try a little bit harder when they are singing in the shower, or when their favourite song comes on the radio?
When I was a teenager, I used to practice my guitar and sing on my bed for hours, after about a year, the nun next door told my mother over the garden wall that whoever sung at night in my room sang beautifully. I don’t know what happens to my voice when it travels through a wall, it must be some miracle, but she used to enjoy it. Once I got wind of the news that Sister Margaret was my number one fan it gave me more enthusiasm and confidence than ever before. From then on, all my songs would be dedicated to ‘Mags’ and I would every night do a different number louder and harder, truly believing that Sister Margaret was sat on the other side of the wall listening and enjoying my performance. I think I even belted out ‘Kum By Ya My Lord’ once just to please my audience. The poor woman probably slept in a different room praying that I would stop eventually.
Now, I am tone deaf. Once on holiday my mother literally ordered me to go and sing on a karaoke or she would disown me. I knew it would be bad, but it was so bad that the people in the pool I was singing to started to grab their towels and leave. During a big note, I looked over the balcony to the pool searching for the approval of my mother, to find she was hiding with the rest of my family in the jacuzzi. Once I had finished entertaining the guests, I found my mother who was surprisingly not looking too happy, and making arrangements to definitely disown me.
So, to sum it up, I won’t ever be performing on X Factor unless I can stand behind a wall and a bunch of nuns are on the panel. Stranger things have happened!
When I was young I worked in a factory packing urine strips, and my colleague Kevin who sat next to me was a very pleasant short, balding man with a moustache. The only problem we had was that Kevin was always complaining of a ‘draft’. I was seventeen and I had never heard someone complaining of a draft, he was constantly rubbing his neck, shutting doors, and moaning. It was quite funny at the time, I thought he was just a bit eccentric and took no notice. Since then, I have over the years heard other people complain of this non existent ‘draft’ but not until recently I realised that I had started complaining too.
Today I was sat by my window and I could feel this cold gentle breath like breeze wrapping around my neck, and down to my ankles. I said to Ross ‘Oooo can you feel that draft?’ , rubbing my neck, shutting the door and .. realising that I was just like Kevin.
I wonder why it is that only after the age of 30 that the dreaded draft gets you?
I was watching a Tattoo programme the other day, and it made me think back to the Tattoo shop near the place I used to work.
I was working in the Council, it was under refurbishment and I was dealing with the general public, I went into the makeshift waiting room with a note in my hand with the name of the person or business I would be dealing with, it had the words ‘The Beast Within’ written on it. Now, rather than shout out the name to speak to the customer, instantly I spotted in the hot busy waiting room the man who was obviously from the Tattoo shop called ‘The Beast Within’ who was waiting to see me. I confidently walked over to the old ginger bearded long scruffy haired, heavily tattooed and pierced man who was sticking out like a sore thumb, got up nice and close and said ‘The Beast Within sir?’.
The guy looked at me with complete confusion, which prompted me to repeat the words whilst nodding my head reassuringly ‘The Beast Within?’ ‘The Beast Within?’ ‘ THE BEASST WITHIN?’ thinking he hadn’t heard me.
Not so confidently and a bit desperate I quietly said ‘The Beast Within sir.. Sir? ‘ He looked at me again with his old blue shocked eyes and then I realised he wasn’t from that shop.
Little awkward, little sweaty, slowly I step backwards away smiling, apologising under my breath, running back into the office to check the name, it was right and I did eventually see the well dressed lady I was supposed to be seeing.
Ah a quiet moment, the tag team are asleep, and I have a rare 5 mins to update this blog.
Everyday Rudi is understanding more and more, so much so that we have started to spell certain things to stop a tantrum. For example, I say to Ross ‘ Shall we put the T.E.L.L.Y on for a bit?’ or ‘ Have you seen my P.H.O.N.E?’ .. Though it does make me laugh when one of us starts ‘Can you pass me a B. I…umm.. S? C..U … I ? oh just pass me a biscuit!’.
My old dog Mostyn used to be able to spell, he’d get too excited when we would say ‘Walk’, so then it became ‘W.A.L.K’, and he’d recognise that, so it became ‘L.E.A.D’, in the end we just gave up and sent him to University.
Today I looked in the mirror and realised my mascara had run down both my eyes, then I realised I hadn’t worn mascara for a while and that it was just the bags from the men sleeping in my house. Between Griff feeding every 60 mins, Rudi up seven times a night and Ross snoring I am surprised I am still awake.
Griff is almost 2 months old, I turned around the other day and I realised I hadn’t peed for about 3 days. I just didn’t have time. I hope time doesn’t keep going this fast. Its hard work but I am loving every minute of it.
Griff has been part of our family for a month. It’s been a whirlwind of dirty nappies, sleepless nights and lots of fun.
Before Griff arrived I did wonder how Rudi and I would cope with another human being joining us. I needn’t have worried at all, Griff slotted right in and its like he was always part of our party. I guess he has been for the last nine months and probably got in the way more in my stomach than he does now.
The sleepless nights are tough again, but this time I know they won’t last forever, even though Rudi still doesn’t sleep through.
I have a few more lines on my face, a shade darker under my eyes, and a belly that will never be the same but I am so thankful to have two beautiful boys (I might be a bit biased).
If you haven’t already met them, please come and visit soon! The spare room is ready!