Books and Cows. (Yep, it's one of those posts.)

Last week was half term here which means the Young Masters had to be entertained. So one day whilst Master Jacob and Master Ben were happily ensconced on a 5hr training course (Yippee) Master Sam and I shot off to that splendid place of culture which is otherwise known as Milton Keynes.

The object of the exercise was to secure Master Sam a new Xbox360 game so I didn't have to endure him sulking around the house for the remainder of the week. Unfortunately, Master Sam has the habit of being anxious to go home as soon as he has secured his purchase which means I have about 20 mins shopping time. Yeah, that's right ladies - Sam is a man in the making. He takes after his father who can spend an hour looking at screwdrivers but when it comes to looking at ladies wear has no interest whatsoever or invariably says that he doesn't like whatever it is I'm interested in. (Which is rather good for his wallet but alas not good for Mrs T's depression.)

Anyhow, whilst Master Sam was occupied I nipped into my favourite shop; the discount book store, The Works, which is fortuitously situated next to Waterstones. The Works stocks all sorts of books at hugely discounted prices. I've bought lots of books from them in particular historical and factual books. There's always loads of self help books too but I never look at those. Well not since the top shelf fell down on my head and I found myself on the floor with a copy over the Kama Sutra planted firmly over my face.

I was truly shocked.

I've never seen someone in that position before. I just couldn't figure out how they got their legs at that angle.....

Anyway, this time I bought 3 fiction books for £5.00 and a copy of the AA Theory Test for Drivers. (I hasten to add that the Theory Test what NOT for me but for Master Sam who will be starting his driving lessons soon.)

Now for that price I don't mind buying untested authors and I went for these;

1. Sins of our Fathers by Susan Howatch. I fell for the fact that the Sunday times said it was "Grippingly readable" on the front cover. The plot sounded a little predictable but I thought I'd give it a shot anyway.

2. Fear by Jeff Abbott. I chose this one because of the header on the back cover which read;

"I killed my best friend. I didn't mean to, but I did. This is my story."

Hmmm....that really appealed to me. I'll read that one first out of the two.

3. The last one was a real find; Quake by Andy Remic. Just before Christmas I ordered Taint & other Novellas by Brian Lumley for Master Sam. It never arrived but about 3 weeks ago Biohell by Andy Remic turned up instead under the same order number. I contemplated sending it back but after reading some of the blurb;

"... an entire planet teeming with with corruption, guns, sex and designer drugs.......zombies....blood...shotguns...warzone... wasteland of murder and mutations...."

I thought to myself that it might be suitable material for Master Sam anyway.

In three weeks he has now read Biohell 3 times and is now reading Quake for a second time! I asked him for his opinion and he went out on a roll to give me this ground breaking long critique;

" Yeah, it's alright."

Huh. Teenagers. So helpful. And eloquent.

I checked out Andy Remic and found out he is a former English teacher in the UK who now writes full time. I had a look at his website here. I found it pretty amusing in places and I particularly liked the quote from Mrs Remic;

"I can't believe I married this sicko!"

So hey, if you've got a teenage son this might be the author for them. I'm going to read Biohell myself (Master Sam thought it was the better of the two) cos... you know...I gotta see what he's reading.... it'll be tough reading about zombies and sex... but well as his mother I feel I should do my duty.....

Now about these cows. In Milton Keynes I saw this piece of conceptual art entitled Concrete Cows

Now apparently the Concrete Cows have at various points acquired BSE, zebra stripes, pyjama bottoms, cowpats and the services of a papier mache bull.

Now that is conceptual art.

Well, being the arty farty person I am I pondered the scene and thought this;

"Hmmm.... concrete cows."

Then I went back to my car.

Copyright Mrs T 2009

Pancakes by celebrity chef in training, Mrs T.

Many of you will know that yesterday was Shrove Tueday, more commonly known as Pancake day which precedes the start of Lent in the Christian calender.

Regrettably, this means that I have to attempt to cook "pancakes" for the young masters. What's more they like to watch me which means I have to pretend to have a degree of proficiency which is clearly not an ideal situation.

But anyway I did it. And just for you folks out there who aren't familiar with the routine of pancake making. Here's how to do it.

1. Assemble your ingredients.



Oh come on - you didn't really expect me to make them without the aid of a packet mix did you?

2.Okay - put the contents of the packet mix in a bowl. Add one medium egg (chicken) and 17 fluid ounces of water. (Tap)

3.Beat the mixture. I use a hand whisk - because I don't have an electric one.

4.Put the resulting mixture into a heated pan. Try not to dribble the batter everywhere. I kept my hob spotless! Also, I suggest using a little oil in the pan otherwise the pancake may stick to the bottom. Not that I would know anything about that. I'm just guessing.

Well, not quite spotless....

5. Toss. (The pancake.)

6.Remove from ceiling.

7. Serve delicately on a plate in the style of a celebrity chef.(Huge plate, small amount of food - if the pancake looks too big cut off the burnt bits.)

8. Sprinkle with sugar and add any extras. ( I recommend lemon, golden syrup, maple syrup or any other tasty stuff.)

9. Present your child with a wonderful home made pancake!

What could go wrong?

Ummm.... Master Benedict threw up most of the night and this morning. Now I'm convinced it was not my pancake because Master Jacob and Master Sam were perfectly fine. However, Master Benedict did not agree.

" Your pancake made me sick."

" No it didn't."

"Yes, it did"

"Ooooooh no it didn't."

"Oooooooh yes it did."

"OOOooooooh no it didn't!"

"OOOooooooh yes it did!"

"Oh all right then....." (Tears well in Mrs T's eyes.)

" See, it's your fault! Next year I want to go to MacDonalds!!"

Poor, poor Mrs T.

Anyway, as a Pancake day special treat here's a piccy of me on my 19th birthday tossing pancakes.

Blimey, I was a stunner! (Ps - fashion has never been my strong point -No comments please.)

Ps. Subsequently to this post, Master Jacob developed a problem at the rear end. Oh dear. But the good news is Master Sam is still well!

Music Mondays; Pick and Mix your Sweets!

The recession is starting to take a firmer grip here in the UK but even so we Brits can usually find something to keep us amused. In the news last week was story that a bag of pick “n” mix sweets from the now defunct Woolworths was for sale on Ebay and sold for a phenomenal £14,500. Of course collectibles, antiques and memorabilia can provide a good financial return but I’m not convinced that a bag of pick “n” mix will actually be a sound long term investment! However, as the proceeds are being donated to a charity, The Retail Trust, I’m optimistic that the purchaser will cough up the money in the name of a good cause and will scoff the sweets before they turn mouldy. Then it will be money well spent!

Anyhow, all these thoughts about sweets got me thinking of one my favourite glam rock groups and indeed one of my favourite groups of all time; The Sweet.

Whilst other girls were cooing over David Cassidy and Donny Osmond I was fascinated by The Sweet and especially Brian Connolly, the lead singer with the long blonde locks and Steve Priest the guitarist with the effeminate looks and mascara. For me they knocked the socks of other Glam Rock groups like Slade, The Glitterband, Wizard and even T Rex. Musically, it could be suggested that they were really only surpassed by Queen but whatever your opinion there’s no doubt that Brian Connolly with his melodic voice and good looks was The Face of Glam Rock. Even I, as a young girl, thought other groups looked novel but a little silly in their sequinned suits and big hats yet Brian, Steve, Andy and Mick always managed to look sexy, almost arty, in their tight pants and make up.

Most girls don’t get to meet their heroes. However, I was very lucky, to meet Brian Connolly, albeit briefly, backstage after The Sweet performed at my university back in the mid eighties. It wasn’t really The Sweet then, just Brian and a backing group. If my memory serves me correctly, I believe they were in fact called “New Sweet." Had I not been with a group of girlfriends, I don’t think I would have gone backstage because that’s really not my style but its been a nice memory because Brian’s health was deteriorating rapidly from the effects of alcoholism. In fact the previous year he’d survived 14 heart attacks in one night but when I saw him he still had his looks and his voice although he didn’t seem to be “all there.” I remember my friends and I talking afterwards and remarking up on his fazed appearance; I guess it must have been the alcohol taking effect. Later I saw him in a documentary in the 90s and it was mortifying to see what alcohol had done to his body and looks. Such a waste of a huge talent.

The Sweet have continued in various guises over the years with assorted band members but to my mind when Brian died prematurely from liver and heart failure in 1997 aged just 51 and his band mate Mick Tucker died in 2002 from leukaemia that was the end of the real Sweet. It’s a pity that they never held it together to explore their musical avenues because as someone who followed them from just a very small girl on my neighbours TV set performing bubble pop songs like Wig Wam Bam and Funny Funny, through to their classic heavier sound of Block Buster and Teenage Rampage and finally to their self penned work of Lettres D’Amour and Love is Like Oxygen I like to think they could have gone onto greater things had not fate dealt them several heavy blows.

Anyhow, it’s time for some pick “n” mix! Being a huge Sweet fan I couldn’t decide which song to post so here’s 3 for you to make your own choice!

The first is a favourite of mine, Co Co, from their early days, the second is Ballroom Blitz from the height of their Glam Rock days. I just love that opening….

“Are you ready Steve?.... Uh huh….Andy?.....Yeah…. Mick?.... Okay…. Well alright fellas…… Lets gooooo…….”

And the last is Love is Like Oxygen. In this song you can really hear their heavy yet harmonious sound. Just Fab.

Hey, and if you're greedy for your sweets like me – you can always play all three!

CO CO



Oh, I just love that voice! So sensual! (And gimme Brian's top!)

BALLROOM BLITZ



Oh Blimey, someone pass me my flares and sequins!

LOVE IS LIKE OXYGEN



What can I say? I've definately got some Sweet memories...

Ps. If you're interested; whilst checking my facts I discovered Sweet Bits, a blog by Andy Scott and the current members of Sweet. I think I might pop in from time to time.....

Come join Music Monday and share your songs with us. One simple rule, leave ONLY the actual post link here. You can grab this code at LJL Please note these links are STRICTLY for Music Monday participants only. All others will be deleted without prejudice.

The Floating Shopper

Yeah, I've changed my blog colour again. I just can't help it, I'm one of those people who gets bored easily. That's why I'm a "Floating Shopper." In other words, I don't shop every week at the same place, I do wild fanciful things like shopping at Tescos one week, Morrisons the next, Aldi the week after and maybe I'll even throw in a quick trip to Asda just to get the adrenaline pumping.

Actually, to be honest, food shopping just bores me rigid- well until I get to the sweet aisle and then all of a sudden I feel a little bit more perky. Mmm.

Anyhow, I'd just like to point out that although my blog colours have changed quite a few times in the last year they don't change as frequently as supermarkets change the location of their products. One week I'm in aisle 6 for baked beans and then 2 weeks later they're in aisle 10. Not good. I like to get in and out of these places in break-neck speed and if I nip in for some bread I don't want to find myself standing in front of the incontinence pads. I've got enough worries about being a bow legged old granny wandering around with soggy knickers without looking at those things whilst I've still got a modicum of bladder control.

Further, I just want to say - I never want to see nappies and baby milk ever, ever, again! I've done my penance so if I find myself down an aisle full of Pampers and Huggies it is like waving a red flag to a bull. I instantly turn from a polite, rational woman into a mad lunatic who wants to make the life of every shop assistant sheer utter HELL. So if any of you ladies (and any gentlemen who may be interested) suffer from the same problem here's my top tips for making your shopping trip more "pleasurable" ...

1. Okay -just cos it's busy don't be tempted into rushing. Relax, chill out! Shopping should be a fun experience! In fact, why not pretend you've lost your debit card and enjoy the pleasure of keeping all those folks waiting and watching the assistant's face turn red.......


"Now where's my card? I'm terribly sorry to keep you waiting... I only just used it so it must be here somewhere. Unless I dropped it. Where would I have dropped it? Oh dear!"


At this point, start to look panicky. (Remembering the time you walked down the high street with the rear of your skirt tucked in your tights should help.) Empty the entire contents of your handbag over the conveyor belt. (NB - don't forget to leave your spare granny knickers in the car.) Act increasingly distressed...


"I'm sure I put it in my purse! I'm soooo sorry...."

When the assistant looks suitably impatient, exhale loudly and proclaim;

" Here it is! Thank goodness!"

Dramatic pause.

"Oh whoops......no.... that's my library card...."

Finally, when the queue is a mile long and the assistant is ready to slash her wrists quickly pull your card out of your pocket and then just as she's about to swipe it you say;

" Oh, I just forgot to get something - back in a jiffy!"

Mmm...deeply satisfying, especially if you have a bad case of PMT.

2. Look for the assistant just about to go for her tea break and engage her in a long conversation about the merits of tinfoil and how you made a whole suit of armour for your son out of Bacofoil and cereal boxes. The assistant will be fuming but the next turkey you roast will taste sooo much better.

3. Swap the price labels around. When it comes up £3.50 on the till for your tin of baked beans cause an almighty stir and demand to see the manager. Not only will you get your beans for free, you will get the sympathy of the entire queue and your shopping carried to your car. You will also get the satisfaction of knowing that it makes up for all the times you've been overcharged. If you're feeling really daring, try the same scam with more expensive products like loo rolls, shampoos or detergents. (Don't try using chocolate, muffins or Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream or the manager will be very, very sceptical and you could come a cropper.)

4. Ask an assistant where the dishwasher salt is. When she replies "Next to the dishwasher tablets," you say " And where's that?" When she says "In aisle 14" you reply " But I've already tried there." Keep going till she gets in a huff and actually has to take you there. Then you say;

" Oh yes, there it is! I just don't know how I didn't see it!" (Don't forget to look suitably innocent.)

However, if you're feeling really vindictive say "Oh, I never use that brand...."

Believe me, you will feel really, really good.

5. Ever been called "love" or "dear" by the checkout lady? I have. I'm not keen on that kind of familiarity but if it is a kindly old gal I can take it on the chin. But now I've found women who are obviously younger than me do as well and that makes me MAD, MAD, MAD!

Combat this problem by following my tried and tested formula;

a) Wink at them.

b) Say "Thanks Honey."

c) Just as you're about to leave look at their name badge and say " I'll be back (insert name) it was lovely meeting you."

(Don't forget to run your tongue around your lips in a suggestive manner.)

I personally guarantee you will not have anymore trouble.

Okay...what was this post about? I dunno. I was just going to say I've been busy with the school holidays and fiddling around with these colour schemes......

See you soon!

Mrs T.

Singing in style

Yep, if you read my 100th post you'll know I 've as much chance of winning the X factor as Gordon Brown has at winning the next election. Zero.

But I certainly enjoy listening to those who can sing and yesterday one of my current favourites the Welsh singer Duffy picked up 3 gongs at the Brit Awards, the Bristish Rock and Pop awards. At the end of the evening she came away with Best Breakthrough Act, Best Female Solo Artist and Best Album for Rockferry.

She has quite a unique sounding voice and with a her welsh lilt she's a pleasure to listen to. Here she is performing Warwick Avenue live at The Brits....




Wow!

Music Mondays; Through the Barricades

The news hot of the music press here in the UK is that 80s supergroup Spandau Ballet have finally buried the hatchet and are reuniting for a tour which will kick off aboard HMS Belfast where the band first performed back in 1979.

Spandau Ballet split up in 1989 after relationships between the band members began to deteriorate. All the Spandau Ballet songs, of which True is the most famous, were written by guitarist Gary Kemp. However, the other band members, excluding Gary's brother Martin, claimed that Gary had promised them a share of the royalties, a claim he subsequently disputed. The argument went to court and eventually it ruled in favour of Gary. This left the other band members facing huge legal bills and on the edge of financial ruin.

So it's not surprising that this reunion has come as a big shock to many despite the recent success of other 80s and 90s band reunions like The Police and Take That. Even their former boss at Chryslis records is quoted as saying 'Every band on the way down is a band on the way up. But I never thought I'd see this one. Once, they couldn't stand to be in the same room together, let alone play."

Whatever their reasons, pecuniary or otherwise there will be many, like me, pleased at this reunion. I followed Spandau Ballet's career from their very first album Journeys to Glory to their peak at Live Aid and through their acrimonious demise. Regrettably, I never got to see them live and I don't think I'll get to see them on their stadium tour this time around either. But as my preference is for more intimate locations I'm not complaining, I'm just pleased to see these five really talented performers doing to what they do best again - make music.

Today, I'm playing one of my favourite Spandau songs, the 1986 hit Through The Barricades. This was perhaps a period which saw Spandau maturing as performers and producing some really memorable songs. I've seen Tony Hadley perform this song several times during his solo career at The Stables and let me tell you he really does have a fabulous voice; he can sing just about anything!

I just hope that Spandau really can put the past behind them and with their combined talents bring us many more years of musical pleasure with both new songs and old.

Come join Music Monday and share your songs with us. One simple rule, leave ONLY the actual post link here. You can grab this code at LJL Please note these links are STRICTLY for Music Monday participants only. All others will be deleted without prejudice.

A professional love story

A few weeks ago I popped round to my friend Miss L's house for a cuppa. Miss L had a few days off work and needed some guidance on how to maximize her cleaning efficiency and of course I felt it my duty to regale her with some useful household tips such as;

1. Tie dusters around your slippers and then you will never have to polish the kitchen floor.

2. Strap a broom to your head so you never have to consciously clean cobwebs from the ceiling.

3. Always wear rubber gloves. Not only will this keep your hands soft but you will be fully prepared for when the local MP calls round trying to solicit your vote. When he says "Can I hold your baby?" You reply, "Thank God, I thought I was going to have to deliver it myself."

I guarantee your MP will leg it.

In addition, with a bit of rewording, the rubber gloves tip also works for unwanted tradesmen, canvassers and charity collectors.

However, it does not not work for a Jehovah Witness who will undoubtedly offer to assist you.( So long as a friend can come along.)

Well back to the story; Miss L and I were chatting amicably with the TV on in the background when we heard this;



Well of course, our eyes were instantly glued to the television as the lovely Lewis Collins and Martin Shaw did their stuff in the 1977 -83 series The Professionals. Lewis and Martin were respectively the handsome Bodie (4/5) and enigmatic Doyle (3/7) undercover agents of CI5, an elite anti terrorist squad. Yep, they were so tough they made Starkers and Crutch look like girls. And Martin Shaw has the honour of being the only guy ever to look sexy and tough with a 1970s' perm; a remarkable feat.

Our attention then focused on the lovely Martin and how he'd been making the news recently in a rather unfortunate manner. Then as the discussion progressed Miss L waded in with the news that she had seen Martin in Elvis in the West End, so I launched a counterattack with the news that I'd seen him as Thomas More in A Man for All for Seasons. And I had a really, really, really, good seat.

Then Miss L launched a brutal body blow;

" Of course when I used to help run Lewis' fan club...."

"Whhhhhhaaaaaaatttttt??" said Mrs T, dropping to the floor sobbing uncontrollably.

" I was saying, when I helped Lewis run his fan club from his house..."

" His .....HO...U...S.............?"

At which point I passed out. When I awoke I found Miss L spraying my face with Mr Muscle Kitchen Cleaner. She said she was trying to revive me, but I ain't so sure.... she looked kinda evil....

Anyhow, because Mrs T is exceptionally well mannered she did not say what she was thinking. But what she was thinking was this;

B****!
(Amongst some other words of a highly descriptive and "colourful "nature.)

Yes, poor Mrs T's heart was ripped to shreds as Miss L recounted how her friend had lived across the road from Lewis and how every Saturday they went across to fold newsletters, lick envelopes and make Lewis' tea.

Well that's what she told me. Hum.

Anyway, just cos it's Valentines and Miss L is a friend AND I've seen the photographic evidence here's something especially for her and all you ladies who might be partial to the lovely Lewis. It might be a bit arduous for some gentlemen but it's worth sticking it out until you see Lewis with the bad haircut. You'll know the one I mean. Take my advice - don't copy Lewis get a perm instead.



ENOUGH! I can't take anymore of this sickening idolatry! Lewis wasn't that handsome!

Well, yes okay he was..... (Might as well say it before Miss L squirts me again.)

Anyway, I'm not saying I'd turn down Lewis on a dark night (even without my lippy on) but Mrs T preferred Martin Shaw. It was just something about that perm! So just for me, in a pure act of self indulgence (and lust), here's a few piccys of the delicious Martin in his heyday. Simply the best!



Happy Valentine's Day everyone! May it be Simply the Best!

PS -Lewis should have been Bond, not that Dalton fellow. Humph.
PPS - If you're ever on a train in Germany remember not say "Thank you" in English. It can get you in to deep trouble.

Valentine Oh Valentine (3)

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Valentine Oh Valentine (2)

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Valentine Oh Valentine! (1)

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MY 100th POST !!

Well this in the 100th post here on my blog The Witty Ways of Wayward Wife. So for all my loyal readers who have been curious to find out some of my more intimate details which I’ve kept under wraps here’s some absolutely fascinating and riveting facts about me. It should give you huge insight into the mind of the Housewife Extraordinaire.

Here we go;

1. As a teenager I once bought a pair of bright green trousers with large leaves on them. On showcasing them to my parents, my father looked slowly over the top of his glasses, put his hand his pocket and pulled out a ten pound note and handed it to me. He said nothing; words were not necessary.

2. I used to play a clarinet until some told me you were meant to make music with it.

3. I used to play the guitar …until someone told me you were meant to make music with it.

4. I declined to learn the piano… on the basis that someone might tell me that I should be making music with it

5. I used to have singing lessons; the teacher’s dog used to sit outside the room and howl. In fact, when it saw me coming up the path it used to try and throw itself out of the upstairs window. My teacher loved her dog and begged me stop. I quit but I heard the dog “disappeared” shortly afterwards. Strange.

6. I used to have acting lessons and aspired to be an actress. These days I just aspire to keep my sanity. People look at me strangely believing I am talking to myself; I’m actually rehearsing for my next play “Confessions of Housewife Superstar” The opening line is “Oh God it’s burning…..”

7. When Master Jacob was a baby I walked down a street unintentionally showing of one of my boobs. (I’d forgotten I’d been breast feeding – that’s motherhood for you.) Still, I felt kinda good for a while believing blokes were looking at me cos I was still one hot chick. The reality was I looked like I’d just been released from a mental institution. (5 hours in a car with 2 kids = madness = boobs hanging out and hair standing on end.)

8. My boys have been playing tennis since they were little and I’ve witnessed some gross pushy parents and horrendous cheating. Last year I finally blew my top and told one pushy parent to get off court in no uncertain terms. She was escorted off the court and I was escorted to the police station.

9. I failed my German O level; this has dramatically hindered my plan to take over the world. However, it has resulted it a life long fascination with frankfurters. See my post here.

10. I failed my maths O level 3 times. This has (luckily) prevented me from achieving Mr T’s budget shopping requirements. (When a woman reaches a certain age she realises kitchen roll is not a suitable substitute for toilet roll.) I feel sorry for Catherine Zeta Jones having to use the dregs from Michael’s beer glass and the scrapings from the honey jar to wash her hair. I guess that’s what happens when you marry a guy who is really, really old. Still, I guess they don’t have to worry about using condoms; I expect a paper clip would do the trick nicely.

11. 3 years ago, I took a university maths course and passed with 86%. It’s official; I can now count to 20.

15. I am a safe and diligent driver and have never crashed my car

16. I have a tendency to lie under extreme pressure.

17. I haven’t been outside the UK for 35 years. This year I plan to do something a little different; I thought I’d try swimming across the Channel. I’ve been building up my fat stores and I think I might just be able to do it. I intend to race Richard Branson in his new yacht Virgin’ on a Bighead.

18.I have telepathic powers and can see into the future. I foresee that Richard’s Branson’s yacht will develop a “sinking problem” about a mile out to sea. I also foresee that all his life jackets will be missing.

19. I was raised as a Catholic – some might say that explains a lot. It doesn’t. Although it may explain why nothing I bake ever rises. It may also explain my aversion to long black skirts unless their worn by Keanu Reeves (as in The Matrix.) Which leads me to ask the question; when are they going to do kickboxing at Sunday school? You know, staffs are just not good enough for self defence these days.

19. As a child I had Irish Red Setter whom I adored called Rupee Bear. Well he had some posh pedigree name but that kinda suited him better. He did all these amazing things like sit, lie down, shake paws, steal stuff off the table, off the cooker, chew the bed covers, slippers and anything that took his fancy. He also used to run off up into the woods and roll in cow’s muck. Then I would give him a shampoo and set; he absolutely loved having a blow dry. I guess it was like having one of those dollies little girls have today – only he didn’t wear a nappy and **** on command.

20. I also had a budgerigar who had the exciting name of “Budgie”. I feel this explains why I’m just a plain Jane. I plan to write a best selling book entitled Budgie The Budgerigar followed by the sequels Puppy the Dog, Pussy the Cat and Ass the Donkey. I feel sure they will be instant best sellers.

21.I have size 5.5 feet. Master Jacob who is 10 has size 5. Later in the year I will be able to wear his football boots and he will be able to wear my stilettos. Hmm. Interesting.


I must now interrupt this post to report that Cleo the Vomiting Cat has just thrown up in the hallway.

I must also report that Tigga the Beelzebub Cat has just sampled it.

I feel sick.

Anyhow, I would like to finish with congratulatory telegrams I received today

HRH Queen Elizabeth II;

“My dear Mrs T, you are credit to my country; a noble woman of sophistication, charm and dignity. I confer upon you my highest award; The Order of the British Housewife. (Also, as requested I have dispatched under separate cover the key to The Tower so that you may confine Mr Cruise as per instructions. I will leave the gates open.Yours, Queenie.")

Mr Pierce Brosnan;

“ My Darling Mrs T, Thank you so much for your contribution to my continuing global success and for never taking the mickey out of me for my appalling singing in Mamma Mia. Love and kisses, Piercey Babes. Ps, See you later Honey XXX."

Mr Barack Obama,

Hey baby, between you and me, I’ve been reading your blog and you are one hot groovy chick. Get down to my place; I’m doing a Clinton tonight. Hugs, Obi Wan Obama.”

Dame Judy Dench

“The job is yours Mrs T. I’m way too old to be looking at Daniel. He can’t act but boy is his arse good. See you at the club, Rudy Judy”

Mrs Margaret Thatcher

“If only you had been my foreign secretary Mrs T instead of Hurd the Turd, I feel we would have conquered the world together! Congratulations on your achievement. (Btw that David is a charmer. Last night when we were at the Common’s bar he told me he was going to have a stiff one. I haven’t felt so good for years.) See you later, Mags.”

And my good friend Master Sy,

"Mrs T, I have followed your progress since you were a fledgling straight jacket wearing nutcase through to housewife extraordinaire. It has been a marvellous journey filled with signs of insanity (Pierce "Dodgy TV Ad" Brosnan) all the way to signs of genius (mentioning me in your posts). My congratulations on reaching 100. You don’t even look 37."

Please feel free to leave me your own congratulatory telegram!

Copyright Jane Turley The Housewife Extraordinaire 2009

Music Mondays; Mary's Prayer

Well I'm way behind with almost everything at the moment as the young masters were off school for four days last week with school closures and now more heavy snow is expected tonight. NO, NO, NO! It's a conspiracy to drive me bananas!

Hmm, okay. I may already be bananas. But let's face it I can't afford to get any worse. I don't want my relatives contesting my will when they discover I've left all my worldly goods to Britt Allcroft.

You may question why I would want to leave my assets to Britt Allcroft. But, hey it just tickled my fancy at the idea of the young masters discovering it when I snuff it. Revenge is kinda sweet isn't it?

So it's going to be quick(ish) posts this week. Here's an all time favourite song of mine from 1987 by the group Danny Wilson. It's a song which I feel has that rare ability to be both sad and happy at the same time.

And it always makes me think affectionately of my sister.




Ps The lunacy is coming later in the week! The next post is Mrs T's 100th! Bad luck world!

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Ahhhhhhhh..... The Cat from Hell

As I write it is 3.55 am. I have been woken AGAIN by my cats. I have three cats, one is completely normal and the other two are stark raving mad. I mean seriously bonkers. They persecute me; I'm convinced that they consider it their duty to see if they can make me throw myself out of the window through lack of sleep. Which I may do just to rub their noses in it because if they think anyone other than me will put up with their lunatic ways they are sadly mistaken. Now how did I acquire the first of these two instruments of torture?

Okay, cat one Tigga (aka Beelzebub) was a gift. Yes, A GIFT.

Now please accept my advice -Never give anyone an animal for a gift because if the animal turns out to be a pain in the arse the recipient WILL HATE YOU FOR ALL ETERNITY! Yes, the next time I see my ex colleagues I'll be wearing my combats and holding my semi automatic.

So to elaborate, 2 days before my wedding back in 1991 I left a job I had been in for a some years and at the end of the day all the staff gathered to me a send off with speeches and gifts appropriate for a housewife and bride to be;

1. A packet of J cloths.

2. A copy of "Eating for Two."

3. And one of those circular thingies you're supposed to wear on your wedding night...um... what's it called? Oh yes - a noose.

Anyway, just as I thought we were done the manager announced that they had another "special" gift for me. Hoorah! I thought...at last a stripogram! I didn't care which one; Tarzan, a fireman or even a chef, I was going to have some sexy virile young man do his stuff just for me! Yee Ha! So there I was, grinning from ear to ear, looking forward to a fun night on the tiles ....

So I looked with anticipation to the winding staircase for the dramatic entrance, waiting for the Stripper music to begin and feeling a little flustered. I'd never been on the receiving end of a male stripogram...what exactly was expected of me? But never one to give up a challenge I decided I would play along.... My heart was beating furiously... thump, thump, thump....Would my young hunk look like Pierce or Kevin? Or maybe Arnie? (The wine was beginning to take effect.)

Then suddenly on the staircase appears a colleague holding a ... KITTEN.

And the kitten was for me. SHoCK, HorroR!

(The noose suddenly felt enticingly silky in my hands.)

But being the polite lady I am, I said all the right things; "Oh isn't she lovely", "Oh how terribly kind " and " I've always wanted a kitten two days before I get married."

But inside I was thinking this;

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And very possibly a bit of this;

Oh fiddly, fiddly, fiddly dee! (Work out your own translation.)

Anyhow, I couldn't believe it! Did I really look like a gal who wanted a small black pussy?

Well, why would I? When I'd already had one?

Yes Sweetie, the stray cat had been living in my flat for the past few months. Presumably, my colleagues thought Sweetie pussy needed some company. But believe me, one bonkers wild cat was enough but another one was going to be an utter disaster.Because little did my colleagues know that Tigga would make Sweetie look sane ... Tigga would become The Cat From Hell.

Anyhow, well that was that; an evening of debauchery finished before it had even started. My last night of freedom ruined by this Beelzebub of a kitten. I rewrapped my prezzies and took the kitten home back in a cardboard box on the London Underground and then onto my parents' house the next day, deciding I could not leave it unattended with Sweetie The Stray for the next few days.

Well, I should have known Tigga was going to be serious trouble because the next night at my parents' home I put it back in its box hoping for a restful night's sleep before my Big Day. But no;

Meow, meow, scratch, scratch, meooooowwwww.....

Hours were passing...

Meow, meow, scratch, scratch...meooooowwwww....

Bags were appearing on my face, my energy was being sapped and I was beginning to look like Judy Finnegan. (Sorry folks; a UK in-house joke)Yep, I was becoming anxious I was going to look like a wrinkled old fossil. So against my better judgement, I decided I would just have to let Tigga out if I was to get any sleep at all and so with the kitten now content under the covers of my bed, I fell into a deep slumber...

The next morning I was putting on my bridal gown with the aid of my best friend when suddenly she screams...

"Oh my God Jane, what have you done to your back?!"

Yep, Tigga had scratched all down my back and somehow I'd slept through it; I looked like I'd had a night of passion with an overzealous lion.

Now ordinarily that wouldn't have mattered. But my wedding dress whilst being very conventional from the front, was a little more raunchy from the rear... it had a very low back. And well.... I looked like I actually had encountered the stripogram! Good heavens! What would all the maiden aunts say?

Tut, tut tut........naughty, naughty......whisper, whisper.....

Anyhow, my bridesmaid decided that it would be a good idea to try and cover it up with a heavy dose of foundation. ( Not my usual concrete mix but the brown stuff for faces.) Well, this seemed to be working well..... until....OH NO!.... my friend dropped the bottle of foundation down the back of my dress.... so now not only do I look scratched to death, I also look like ..... well.... I've had a problem with my colostomy bag......

I just hoped nobody noticed.......

Anyway, needless to say this was the beginning of Tigga'a relentless need to persecute me; bite my legs and toes, wake me, wake my children, stick her bottom in my face, lick my hair, crawl under the duvet, scratch the carpets, stairs, the doors, the sofa and ME. In fact, I am convinced she is the living incarnation of The Devil. And the most annoying thing is that she sleeps nearly all day and then at night as soon as my head touches the pillow she appears from nowhere to my cries of...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've tried everything over the years to placate her. Nothing works.

I AM A VICTIM OF A CAT!

Somebody help me pleeeeeeasssseeeeeee......

Copyright Jane Turley 2009.

Ps I apologise to Master SY for writing a post about cats - a pet hate of his. (If I may use that term.....he, he, he.....)

Music Mondays; It's snowing!

Hey, it snowing!

Here's a few piccys;

The view from our village green looking towards the nearby hills.

Master Ben goes sledging. Boy, is that kid trouble. Can't you just tell?

The village church.

I think we ought to hear something with a snowy feel this morning. So here's the wonderful Snow Patrol with Chasing Cars;



And if you're interested here's a short clip of London in the snow early this morning!

Come join Music Monday and share your songs with us. One simple rule, leave ONLY the actual post link here. You can grab this code at LJL Please note these links are STRICTLY for Music Monday participants only. All others will be deleted without prejudice.