More Menopausal Stories

Good news, readers!

Yesterday I went swimming and I remembered to see to my bikini line! The bad news is - it was only when I was having my pre-swim shower that I realised I still had my reading glasses on my head.

Still, that was not quite potentially as bad as Wednesday when, after I had started up the engine on my car and was just to pull-out from the garage, I remembered I hadn't actually paid for my petrol.

It is possibly that sometime in the next couple of years I may be arrested for something that I have no idea of what I have done.

Please God, I hope it is not shoplifting. Please.

Horror upon Horrors

Ladies, I know you will share this moment of ultimate horror with me...

Yesterday, I went swimming for the first time for several weeks. I walked leisurely along the side of the pool which was full of children, parents and a few foolhardy swimmers, like myself, who were prepared to brave the onslaught to our ears. I lowered myself into the pool and began to swim at a gentle pace, blotting out the noise and relaxing after a few fraught weeks.

And then, dear readers, I had my moment of ultimate horror.

I realised I had forgotten to shave my bikini line.

Game, Set and Match

So, as usual, I am spending the summer holidays on the tennis circuit. This year has been slightly different as last week Master Benedict got the chance to play at Wimbledon in a national U14 tournament. He reached the last sixteen of the singles and won the doubles title 6 - 4,  6 - 1. Being only 13, if he gets through the qualifying rounds next year, he will get a chance to compete again. I'm looking forward to him taking on the might of the LTA sponsored kids and seeing just what he can do at the next level.

My boys, Jacob and Ben, now hold nine county titles and one national title between them but, despite Jacob being no 1 in our county almost consistently since the age of nine and Ben since the age of seven, in all that time they have only received £300 of funding between them - which will just about pay for two reels of their tennis strings. Unfortunately, in order to get them to the next level, it looks like I'm gonna have to write some sleazy sex and gun-toting blockbuster to finance their training because having a nine to five job when you're committed to sport is nigh impossible and tennis is seriously expensive. So my ManBooker dream is well and truly over. Ah well. You can't win 'em all.  Anyhow, if you can't wait for my take on Fifty Shades meets Pulp Fiction you can help spread the word about my novel, The Changing Room, which isn't Fifty Shades meets Pulp Fiction - although it is kinda sleazy in places. (Hey ho.) The eBook is less than a cup of coffee on Amazon at the moment. So yep, I do have other motivations for wanting to be a successful writer other than just the sound of my own voice (although admittedly that is a quite a big attraction) so now with Master Ben's big win I suppose one might say - it's game on.

The good looks and athleticism are inherited from his mother. And I'm not talking about Tim Henman. I don't know where the ears come from but they're not mine.

Should Scotland vote "Yes"?

So it's the early hours of Sunday morning and, as I have insomnia, I have been occupying my time by reading the news over at The Guardian.

Yes, I've been trying to take-in some big words and long sentences over at the Guardian. Toughen myself up enough so I can open-up Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall without gulping.

So anyway over at The Big G they've got some high profile writers giving their views on whether the Scots should vote aye or nay to stay in the union. (You folks abroad may not know but, in the autumn, the Scots are voting on whether they want to still hold hands with the rest of the UK - or whether they just want to do it discreetly behind the bike sheds.)

Anyway I thought it was appropriate that some lesser known folks i.e -  me and a few of my buddies should have our say too.

Now firstly, I should say that my experience of Scotland is two weeks in a small cottage with my in-laws in a remote field in 1988.

So we're not exactly starting on the best footing. On the plus side, I do have a small amount of Scots blood in me (to add to my English, Irish and Welsh blood) so I think I'm able to give a pretty balanced overview of things.

So after some deep thought on the matter, my answer is that the Scots should definitely go their own way because I am not convinced that any plan to make haggis as a currency is going to work. And I want to see the aftermath. I also want to know where the Scots are going to keep their haggis currency - cos there's no pockets in those kilts you know - so the only place to keep their new bigger currency would be in their sporrans. Which would look kinda...awkward. Okay, okay, maybe a few Scots would get some extra dates wearing their heavily-weighted sporrans but I reckon when the kilts come off or up (depending on the wind speed) it would be a bit of anti-climax for us girls.

So anyway, I asked some of my buddies to sum-up their thoughts on the Scottish vote as I reckon what is needed is more sincere debate on the subject by people on the street - not just these big cheesy writers weighing in with their self-important views.

Okay, so let's get down to business and see what my buddies said:

Hugh Pounceby-Smythe:  "The Scots are voting on whether to stay in the union? I say that's jolly inconvenient ...Are they using chalk or ink on the ballot papers?"

Dougie MacDougMcDouglas: "Aye, aye, aye, aye. Of course we should vote "Aye". I'm all for haggis currency. I could wear a sporran as big Ben Nevis and it'll not affect me walk. That puny wee Cameron can keep his pound and his pea-sized wallet. I'll be wearing me sporran with pride."

Connor Macleod: "I've lived for a thousand years and I've a chill between me legs that even a haggis won't stop."

Her Majesty: "Put the servants at Balmoral on siege rations and hoist the flag, Mr Butler. We are at war! I may have the weak and feeble body of an eighty-eighty year old woman but I the heart and soul of a noble Englishman. When you've done that bring me my tea. With crumpets and some of Charles' jam."

Russell Brandit: "Let's have a *ucking revolution! No haggis, no pound. Just a big *ucking revolution!"

Her Majesty: "Take Mr Brandit to The Tower."

Darth McVader: "I am your father, Alex. Use The Force. Destroy your enemies."

Alex Skywalkersalmond: "As you wish, Father. But first - lend me your cape. It'll look good with my skirt."

Obi Wan-Kenobe Esq: "You are not well, Alex. Do not use The Force - it will destroy you and all that you hold dear. Also, try my tailors in Savile Row."

Billy Connolly: "Och......ah.....no really......och...... did you hear the one about .....ah...oy.....och....ah....oy."

Her Majesty: "Take Mr Connolly to The Tower."

Some geezer at Luton Airport dressed in a tartan turban, a kilt and wearing a suspicious-looking sporran: "I have nothing to declare. I'm just flying to Iraq for a holiday."

So there you are. Just a few comments from some of Mrs T's buddies. All thought-provoking stuff. As for Mrs T what does she think about a UK without the Scots? Well she thinks it would be like Oreos without the cream in the middle.

Kinda sad really.

"On the count of three, gentlemen. Let's give the English the scare they deserve."