Miaow

I have now emerged from a week of slumber and feel back in the land of the freezing living.  Cor, it hasn't half been parky.  It is raining today which is a vast improvement.  It is now grey and miserable rather than sunny and frosty.  Anyway, I am emerging in my all in one leopard pussycat outfit which I wear all day and night and will continue to do so until it smells.

Mr Smith's stinky cold and hacking cough have dispatched me to the spare room.  Lovely, no clobber and a good night's sleep.  Also no Mr Smith.

I have to accompany Mr Smith to the golf christmas dinner dance on Saturday - groan.  Can I wear my pussycat outfit?  oh apparently not.  It's tiaras and ball gowns.  OK. What can I cram myself into?

Dilemma du jour: (there usually is one).  If I paint every day, including cancelling Christmas, I still will not have enough time to produce all the paintings I need for my show in March.  This is unfortunate.

East west home's best

Sorry about the lack of posts.  Tropical Internet connections are plenty dodgy but now I have dragged my exhausted self back across the Atlantic normal service will be resumed.

I had a wonderful time but I am so tired now I want to die.  Mr Smith has a stinking cold.  He also has a very irritating cough.  I hope he doesn't give it to me for Christmas.

I am nicely brown like the Christmas turkey which is lovely.  I painted as much as I could but the last few days were a little unruly when my friend Outrageous Anne turned up and we had some fun.  I did miss my family and after about seven days was bursting to come home.  Anyway, I was able to leave all my clothes at Outrageous Anne's house so took home an almost empty suitcase and don't have to drag it all back in March. OA is going out with a black guy half her age - what a hoot.

And so to bed for absolutely ages.

Travelling daydream

Eventually everything was found and crammed into a couple of bags and transported over land and sea and a bit more of both to the little island of Nevis in the sunny Caribbean.

I arrived in a whirl and a flourish at a bar in town.  I eventually was dragged out of the bar and up the mountain to my hotel where I have been ever since recovering from a hangover - very deserved.  I have met up with loads of old friends and sold a few small paintings.

Last night I was at a live music thing at the other end of the island.  It went on til late and I was bursting to go home as I was horribly tired and off the booze.  I ended up drinking a glass of wine and  staying til the small hours.  I was giving my friend, Selling Glinnis, a lift home so had to wait for her to finish enjoying herself.  I don't like driving at night here but with a passenger it is all much easier.  Selling Glinnis has sold loads of paintings for me so it is worth keeping her sweet.

I was supposed to go out tonight to yet another bar but I fell asleep.  I know sleep is for sissies but tonight I will happily be the drippiest weed in the world. I need some kip.  I will probably go straight back to British time instead of beating jet lag but tonight will be an early one.  And so to bed .... Chirrup, screech, bray, croak ... the sounds of the tropics.

Objects trouvé

What is really good about packing and having to go on a treasure hunt around the house in pursuit of elusive objects is finding everything.  I had a ghastly list that included sunglasses, a teeny weeny portable printer .... Well you never know when it might come in handy, and a pack of make your own postcards and a tiny set of paints, some long lost flipflops, sun cream, mos spray and a working watch.  I have everything except the working watch.  I have found 16 non working watches but they all need new batts.  Maybe I do have a watch batt somewhere.  No I am just too tired to look.  I will ask at Dixons tomorrow at the airport.  Well, I mean I will buy one rather than ask them if they know where I have put mine.

Globe trotty

I travel quite a lot; not perhaps as much as an international business man but about three or four trips abroad a year.  This will be my third this year, second on my own. I have never thought to have copies of things like passport, insurance doc or credit cards.  I just fly away without a care in the world but suddenly it has dawned on me that I should take some precautions.  If I lost my passport I would be stuffed.  I would only be able to describe it as a small red EU book containing a dreadful photo of self. I did so much prefer them when they were big and black.  I have therefore made Mr Smith delve into the archives of his filing system to furnish me with an insurance policy.  He sighed a lot but for once I am being sensible here.  A novelty, I know.

Anyway, now that I know my remains are fully covered for repatriation I can pack.

I have a horrendous 'to do' list to which Mr Smith has added items of extreme fatigue,  but he is getting me some spending money.  $50 should be enough.  I don't think so.  Oh well, I will get more at the airport which annoys him as it 1p more expensive. I have cleaned the kitchen but now he wants me to cook meals .... But I am going away!  I think I am supposed to put them all in freezer packs and mark them: Monday, Tuesday, May this choke you.

Now I really must pack.  Perhaps a list would be helpful.

Foody woo

Thought about it long and hard and finally decided to use up all leftover dried fruit and make a second Christmas cake.  Now there will be cake for all.  There is always the dread of it not cooking or cooking too much.  I never know; it seems desperately hit and miss which I suppose adds an element of fun to the proceedings.

We went to Roehampton Club for lunch and moaned about everything from the stupidity of the booking system to the awfulness of the pudding.  All we got was backchat.  Most annoying.  Now I feel full and angry.

Tomorrow is packing day when I lay everything out, decide it's all awful, go shopping for new stuff and repack.  My big kit bag is full of very heavy art materials.  My brain is full of very heavy paintings.  I have such great ideas that are just bursting to get out.  Shame I can't paint on the plane.  I will read my book and watch dreary films and eat tiny little compartmental meals as usual and put a great deal of energy into ignoring the person sitting next to me.

Making whoopee

I just realised I haven't made anything today.  Not like me.  Well, I have made a loaf of bread that I can smell baking away as I write and I have worked on a painting all morning.  It should be finished tomorrow. Thank heavens for Graham Norton without whom my Saturday mornings would be oh so dull.  I didn't last through Tony Blackbum because I was cold and hungry and needed lunch.  I did intend to go back but ended up having a lovely afternoon nap dreaming of the Caribbean which is where I am off to on Tuesday.  An adventure.

I swam this morning.  I felt invigorated.

I have just found all the cherries at the bottom of the cake.  Mr Smith was right after all, things were not quite as well distributed as they could have been, but for God's sake don't tell him.  I made my Christmas cake today.  So there's something else I made. Hope it's ok.  It seemed hopelessly uncooked after 2 hrs (it's only small) so I gave it a lot longer.  Oh well, by Christmas it should have matured nicely.  Last year I made my cakes in August and by December they were Amazing.  Just as well I made two as the first one got demolished the week before Christmas.

I need to do my Christmas shopping.  I might proceed to the shops tomorrow ... Oh no actually there is no time. I will have to go on Monday.  I will do all the stocking fillers and see if there are any other bits and bobs I can pick up for the fussy idiots who pass for male members of this family inc. dog.

Mr Smith is taking me out to lunch tomorrow.  How exciting you might think.  Wrong. Hold onto your hats.  We are going to the golf club to use up the remnant money on my card. His generosity knows no bounds and next year I am paying the sub.  Woohoo.

Even dots

The Lovely Claudia and her mother came to play and I painted roses on cakes.  These are SO easy.  Even the really bish ones look good when you see them later.  I tend to pick off the tops as there is something a bit off putting about all that food colouring.

Yesterday I seem to have spent the entire day taking and collecting my car from Wandsworth which Mercedes call Chelsea.  That was when I wasn't eating chocolate. Bad girl.  Make of the day: a Dundee cake.  Mr Smith had accused me of making dry Dundee cakes in the past.  I think it is supposed to be quite dry but I changed the recipe as Mary uses too much flour.  It was perfecto but Mr Smith complained the fruit had fallen to the bottom - so I pushed it into his face.  Actually there is a good even distribution of fruit throughout, it has not sunk remotely, so there Raisin Face.

Dorothy, Kirsty and me.

I followed the yellow brick road to the V&A Hollywood costume exhibition.  It was very good.  I met blue haired Lauren and got mistaken for Kirsty Allsop.

Make of the day: Some stretchers and a gold plastic heron in my vegetable garden whose legs I had to mend with wires up the insides ... Oh so clever.  He keeps falling over ... Oh not so clever... So now I have a lying down plastic heron in my vegetable garden.

Have your cake and stitch it

I met Lauren Blue Hair at the V&A and gave her some cakes I had sewn.  Well actually I baked them then painted the tops.  She is running an event with StitchLondon tomorrow night.  I can't go but was happy to donate cakes as well as some yarn. I wish them every success with their event.  Lots of people will be sewing away furiously to make a giant jigsaw puzzle of stitched messages. www.stitchldn.com

Rival Homes

I painted the bathroom white but it looks awful.  It needs about ten coats to cover the awful vinyl wallpaper.  I actually think it looked better before and trying to get to the top bits was absolute torture.

We looked at terrible houses, one too big and one too small.  I do not consider one loo which is in the bathroom sufficient for a whole house. Mr Smith has to have his own ... Preferably an outhouse.  The one that was too big had so many rooms none of which were a reasonable size.  It was a holiday home for someone with millions of children and friends not a retiring couple who want to be shot of their kids and enjoy life of their own in a smaller hovel.  I have found a beautiful house in the local town but it has nine bedrooms - mmmm, we only really need one or two.  I have found something simply dreadful that should outdo Mr Smith on unsuitability.

Golden Brown Boys

Best Boy is being golden with lovely manners and he is even tidying his room.  I love him so much when he is like this. I think their holiday was quite boring and the weather wasn't all that good although they are brown.  They seem pleased to be home.  I made them a huge welcome home dinner last night but the Apprentice did not deign to join us as he went to the pub.  I am rather cross with him.

Off to Kent today to finish that loo floor and paint the bathroom white.  Never a dull moment.  Before I go I have to go through my gigantic list of needs collecting them all like a treasure hunt from around the house and shed.  Mr Smith is very excited as he is showing his flat off to his friends tomorrow.  He is also taking me house hunting.  I know we haven't even finished this one yet!

I want leopard pyjamas... With feet and ears.  Mr Smith wants another wife.

They're back

The travellers are returned from Cypress. I have only seen one son so far, the Apprentice who was off very early to his apprentice electrician job in West London.  How was your brother? I enquired. "His usual self."  Oh I see.  Why must the Best Boy go out of his way to piss everyone off?  I suppose he behaves better on set.  I don't suppose a talking to will make the slightest difference.

Sensible Alison's children are far worse than mine.  Odd, hopeless, bossy and rude.  Miss Bossy is much the best.  Odd is seriously odd but holds down a job which is surprising.  Hopeless is just thick and disorganised with a dope habit a bit like the Best Boy who at least has good work ethic.  Rude is clever.  He is at Leeds University reading engineering but he is unutterably vile to his mother.  My children are much nicer than that.

I am now in turmoil about my website.  I think I might have to call in reinforcements .... To kill the awful web designer.

Happy Day

Glorious sunny day here but I am not gardening.  I reserve that activity for dreadful rainy days!  It is actually a cheese sarni and kip on the sofa afternoon for me.  I finished a painting this morning.  It could do with a few more palm trees actually but it is finished for now. Weehhee.

Had a bit of good news from the bank which makes a change.  That website man seems to be doing it a bit better although the pictures are still all squished and flat - hopeless!  I am at the point of paying him to go away. My remaining bathroom floor tiles arrived so that's what I will be doing over the weekend.

My car is at the garage for a service and I miss it.  Every time I look out I think it has been stolen.  I might mosey off to Wandsworth and sit and wait for it then I can be there when it comes round from its anaesthetic.

Mr Smith is taking me house hunting at the weekend.  What fun.

Peaks and troughs

At the weekend I bought some metal planters which are liners for wooden troughs.  I bought these from the world's worst salesman.  I would happily have bought the whole jardiniere complete with liners but he insisted on selling me only the liners thus doing himself out of a substantial sale.  He was like this with everything.  Oh no you don't want to buy that when you can make it yourself or buy a much cheaper one down the road.  I now have to make a jardiniere.  What a fag when I could have just bought one from him ready made.  Really what this is is a mounting block or a couple of wide steps on which one plonks pots and troughs in a staggered arrangement.  I might get out some bits of wood and make a start today then all I need are a few bolts and screws and a lick o' paint and Mr Smith can say "Bit wonky isn't it?" and I can kick him.

Received a photo of one son in Cypress.  Which Cypriot jail is housing the other one?

Busy Sea Bee

I spent most of the weekend laying a loo floor.

 

I ran out of tiles.  Counting is not what I do best.  I then covered three out of four chairs and photographed Mr Smith in all his golfing trousers for his 2013 Calendar.  Next year it'll be his underpants!

Home sweet home

Mr Smith wants to move house but I think it's just a ruse to get me to clear up our piggery of a home.  I might.  I am starting with the garden.

Dinner dates

Dinner was Good despite most of the sauces tasting vile and going wrong. I didn't fancy boring old pineapple and the damsons looked like they had seen better days and anyway were all mushy from being frozen so I made pineapple upside down pudding with lots of moscavado sugar and cream ... Just heaven.  I would definitely do that one again.  Two days later and I am still full.

I found a new Thai nail place in Putney.  The girls were kept in a cupboard and the head honcho opened it and got one out every now and again.  They were lovely and smiley and there were no fish in sight. I now have beautifully buffed and polished nails for a tenner.  I was even offered "tree" which I think was tea but I passed on that so will never know.

Today Mr Smith is taking me and my rather untrusty fold away trolly to the market to stock up on veg as we have not so much as a potato in our fridge.  My trolly tends to fold itself up at the worst possible moment so I have to drag this stupid lopsided thing through the market scraping it along the ground until I kick it - Mr Smith.  The trolly does not like to carry much more than a carrot and an onion and maybe a light lettuce.

I must paint, I must garden, I must order next year's calendars, and do the website stuff I have to do.  The man is making a bit of a bog up.  I labelled everything which took me all of Sunday and he has lost it all.  I am really cross.  He seems to have got it into a terrible mess.  This is not really what I wanted.  Never mind.  I will pay him and be dissatisfied forever.

New day, new hair

I am taking my grey roots to be dealt with.  I might try a before and after photo.  I might not as, whilst I don't mind looking a frightful old bat in the before, I would weep uncontrollably if I still looked an old bat afterwards.  These things are not cheap you know and I was thinking of getting my nails done, though those unsmiling Thai people get me down a bit.  They have nasty tanks of piranhas in the back and a snooty manner that makes me feel fat and dirty even if I am having a thin day and am straight from the bath.

The Good Evans are coming to dinner.  It is ages since I saw Unpresuming Ed and Sensible Alison. I am going to cook an amazing Cordon Bleu dinner .... I hope.

THE MENU

Silly little filo parcels filled with prawns and salmon decorated with dill to look poncey.
Fillet Steaks with some rather tricky sauce, potato dauphinois and oh I dunno whatever is rotting in the fridge.
Damson crumble with cream or fresh pineapple
Stinky cheese.

It is heaven without the boys.  They have been gone for a whole hour; it feels like heaven.

Annabel

Lost

Dear St Anthony,

It's getting bad.  If I wasn't quite so messy it might not be as bad but where are these things?

My USB stick. The one with all the bits on it that I need for my website.
The teeny little thingy from the camera that I left out in the rain.  It wasn't in the drawer where I thought it was.  Oh woe is me.
The tweezers that look like a little lady - I need to tweak.
My big camera that I lent to the Best Boy. I daren't ask him as he will shout at me or accuse me of "Having a go".  Pleasant requests like that usually result in that sort of retort.  Nice boy ... Not.

Oooh they are going on holiday tomorrow and I am so so excited.  The dog and I and Mr Smith can all play at home with no customers. Yippee.

Mr Smith has just declared he wants to sell our house.  Oh no.  I was just planning a lovely garden. I think the mortgage repayments are getting him down a bit.  I am sorry for him having no money and no job and no smile but there again I don't see why he should make me miserable too.  I hope we don't have to live in a one bedroom flat in Kent .... with two boys!  That would be a bit squeazy.

Well, I had better get out of bed and look lively as I am sure I am to be berated for something or other.  I will be golden wife and perfect mother and go and finish some paintings like a good artist.

Wrong bag

I seized the wrong bag from Mr Smith and ended up saving a load of ground elder and some lawn trimmings whilst my strawberry plants have all ended up at Wandsworth tip.  The Apprentice said they noticed as they tipped them in ... Why didn't they go in after them?  A 50ft drop is not so far compared to my wrath.

I should be gardening now but somehow all the verve has gone along with my strawberries.

Techno misery

I am having a website rebuild at vast expense.  Well, my website is looking a little yesteryear and I think it could do with an overhaul.  This has resulted in me having to firstly sort out the old domain and set up a new one, open a new account with a new web server, sit on helplines for hours and cry.  In the end I got angry and told the website man he would have to sort it out.  I cannot do this.  It turned out the main problem was I had spelt my name wrong.  I knew I should never have attempted this. Here's what I hate:  "It's really easy" then an hour later you are still in techno hell with a box of tissues.  One day I will have a lovely website.

It is raining.  Yesterday was a lovely day and I should have been gardening.  Garden is weedy.  I am fatigued.  I want the rain to stop and the weeds to stop and everything to stop.  Can I just stay in bed?  Mr Smith has put on his going to the tip clothes and is going to the tip with all the weeds from my previous gardening spate.  Good man.  Oh no, he has taken all my strawberry plants for replanting.  Oh he is such a pest; a bit like a giant slug.

Have now retrieved strawberry plants from back of car in nightdress in street in pouring rain.  Somehow this is completely my fault.  He zealously took my strawberry plant bag thinking it was weeds because he can't tell the difference which reminds me of when he hauled out the children's sunflowers just before they flowered because he thought they were Japanese knot weed.  It was about 20 years ago but there hasn't been much improvement since.

I must sort out and catalogue as many paintings as I can.  Then I have to resize them and send them to website man.  Actually, that beats gardening in the rain hands down.

Buzzy things

Things that have sent me bonkers recently:  Mr Smith, Mr Smith, Mr Smith, a buzzy fly at breakfast yesterday, Mr Smith, The Apprentice, The awful Best Boy, Mr Smith.

Let's just say the fly was probably the least annoying of any of them.  I need a holiday.  Only three weeks to wait.

I have great plans for my garden but they will have to wait til the summer.  I am paving huge swathes of it and going for pots.  I don't suppose Mr Smith will help remotely and he won't let me get anyone in.  I have bought far too many bulbs and will be planting til next year at this rate.  Maybe I will buy more pots.

I have finished the painting of Claudia's Garden at long last and have started doing something that I thought was a great idea but isn't.  I framed an old painting of mine and decided to extend the painting over the frame.  It looked so much better before.  I will soldier on then I have to set about finishing all the paintings I have started before I go away to the Caribbean for my proper painting session.  Then it all needs cataloguing and I can have a smiley.

Mr Smith does bathroom PT

Every morning Mr Smith does his physical jerks on the bathroom floor. It is a parky morning today, the first of the year, and he has requested that I make the underfloor heating in the bathroom work.  Why doesn't he do this?  It is fearfully complicated and involves pulling out our very heavy bed as the box of tricks is on the wall behind it.  I might do it.  I might do subversive setting and set night for day and day for night by mistake.   I might hurl the instruction leaflet at him.  I might send him to a gym.  I hate his stupid physical straining every morning.  Oh I suppose if he performs these exercises in the bathroom I don't have to watch them going on at the end of the bed.

He came home

We picked up our little bit of animated fluff at the RSPCA where he had been handed in.  He is never ever leaving my sight again.

I have just come back after five glorious days in Kent.  The sea is so beautiful.  The Apprentice came with his tool kit and between us we got through an enormous list of tasks.  We now have a wall mounted telly, lots of splendid curtains, paintings hung, furniture assembled ... Actually Mr Smith and I put together the World's most impossibly complicated sofa, it took us four hours.  The Apprentice slept on it.

Before we left we had to be destructive as a leak appeared in the bathroom and a nasty smell in the loo. We tore up Lino and lifted floors but found nothing.  Now we have to put it all back.

I am absolutely exhausted but the flat now looks almost perfect ... Except the loo and bathroom.

Lassie Come Home

I have lost the dog.  I left him outside the corner shop and he is gone. I have tried everyone and everywhere and have compiled his Wanted posters.  The corner shop didn't even display it.  Oh Basil, where are you, you smelly bag of fur?  Oh how I miss you.   Apparently someone took him into care as I had abandoned him.  But I hadn't.  Oh please, please, bring him back.  I am beside myself.

The Bronze Age on Thursday

Did you know you are not allowed to say BC any more?  It is now BCA or BCE Before the Common Age or Common Era.  No Anno Domini either,  ACA.  I despair.  I found this out at the Bronze Exhibition at the RA where I was amazed to note that a wonderful statue of a large man from 1000 BC (I am making a point here) was missing a leg but his willy had stayed perfectly intact.  You would think the smaller bits would have worn away first. Mother in Law took me and after we had cultured and had a lovely lunch, we went to buy fabrics and blinds in John Lewis.  She was very helpful and we chose the perfect cheap and cheerful blind for the kitchen and some excellent stripes to cover the mouldy dining chairs.  I am so glad I squeezed that in between Kent trips. 

Now just a loo roll holder and a loo brush and I can relax before working out what to do with my hideous bathroom. 

The curious incident of the dog in the night

I absolutely love my new flat in Kent now.  We moved in on top of the builders, adding to their pile. Everything arrived - new bed, new fridge, new dishwasher.  I busied myself assembling flat packed furniture wrong.... twice. You cannot open the oven or saucepan cupboard as dishwasher is in the way.  Oh well, who wants to cook when they are on holiday?  As long as you can wash the plates from the takeaways all is well.

After an exhausting day of packing and unpacking we went to investigate the local indian restaurant.  They had horrid smelly candles and awful clientelle.  Well I dare say there were some very nice other diners; we just weren't in their vicinity.  The big fat Loud family effed and blinded throughout our curry until they got their food whereupon they shut up as they crammed it all into their big fat gobs. We might try the other indian next time.

Our bedroom is large and yellow and needs curtains which I am rustling up.  Our dog is annoying and busy.  He wouldn't settle in his basket in the kitchen so I transferred it to our room which was a pointless exercise as he safaried around the room all night picking a fight with a very scrunchy bean bag.  Feeling exhausted in the morning, I thought I would take him for a coastal walk to invigorate me.  He was settled angelically in his basket viewing me with one eye as if to say "Nah, if you want a walk go ahead, I'm a bit tired." 

We came back to London as Mr Tiger Smith was playing golf with a squirrel.  Well, that is a squirrel made a hole in his bag and scurried off with his sandwich.  Poor Mr Smith watched forlornly as his elevenses disappeared down the fairway.

Last night we went to the local pub as we had been invited for a free dinner.  This is because they are relaunching it from a spit and sticky carpet dive into a beautiful elegant restaurant with lovely food and superb decor.  Our dinner was not as free as it should have been and I pointed out if they wished to see us or any of our neighbours again they had better forget the extra charges for vegetables and pudding.  They agreed and Mr Smith stopped moaning.  Mrs Fixit on the case again.  I ate and drank far too much and now have a horrid hangover.  However, I will definitely go there again.  Kings Head, Roehampton High Street - Mrs Smith recommends. 

Get me out of here

The weather looks absolutely ghastly.  I should be building an ark but instead am going to Kent to see a man about a carpet and things.  Mr Smith, in his irritating interferring way, put all my furniture outside to air yesterday and it got left there overnight.  It is now very wet. In fact it is soaked through and will take days and days to dry out.  I am so cross.  It did not need to go outside any more; enough air.  It was aired as aired could be.  Anyway, I do not know if I will ever get my little chair dry and where is Golly?  He is a very small gollywog of whom I am fond.  I bet a fox got him.  I will send Mr Smith out in the pouring rain to find him.  I started my search in the dark but the rain trickled down the back of my nightie.  I have sent Mr Smith and the dog out in the downpour to get money from the money machine for the builder.  They are taking their time - extra sniffing or 7am muggers? 

I am worried about my forthcoming Caribbean trip as all my friends are scattering to the winds.  I am not spending ten days on a tropical island in solitary confinement.  Gwen jacked in her job as hotel manager as it was wholly impossible.  I don't blame her really.  AgentAnnie will be in England having her baby.  The whole point of the trip was to meet her and get things organised for the Big Show in March. Whilst I am delighted she is sprognant I am not best pleased about my jolly hols.

Yesterday I went to buy some bulbs to cheer up my garden come Spring.  I did very well, spent plenty of dosh, bought loads of tulips, daffs and crocuses then I looked at my garden.  It will take me at least a week to clear all the weeds before I can even consider planting.  Oh well.  Mac and wellies on.  Just as well I have not yet retired all my old anoraks to the seaside yet.

I am not in a very good mood to start my Wednesday.  I hope it improves.  I have yet to shout at my kids and eat my cornflakes ... both violently.

Splodging on

Aha, phone found down wellington boot.  What the heck was it doing in there, calling my socks?

This morning it was my turn to head the SOTB  (Stay Off the Booze) Forum on the internet and, having carefully mulled over my words with extreme care I then completely messed it up and ended up posting it 4 times like a complete drunk!  Someone somewhere sorted it out.  Thank heavens.  Honestly all these women with phds in psychology write all this eloquent philosophical stuff then on comes me with the ramblings of a nursery school child.  Oh well.  At least they can understand mine.  It was about park bench versus cocktail hour drinking or something, of which I am wholly unqualified to comment but thinking of joining the former (for research purposes only).

Now I am stuck in Claudia's Garden.  This painting is a bit like doing a jigsaw with no picture and half the pieces missing.  This is usually because the dog has eaten them.  Anyway I am getting there and I secretly rather like this painting. I am visiting Claudia in her garden this afternoon in order to fill in the gaps and see next door's cat who I think would add a little something to the pic ... not just a brown splodge.

Big problems with bed delivery.  I will not get my bed before we move into Kent on Friday due to a man with a Yorkshire accent and a broken down van.  Great!  I am rather tetchy.  I will either have to put up with the broken one or .... well I don't know what really.  It is far too big to go in our car. Righty ho luv, says lady from bed shop.  I'll give you righty ho alright and I am not your luv!

I am trying to make curtains.  I am getting angry.  I hate making bloody curtains.  I will go to B&Q and buy masses of bulbs instead. Actually, is that where I bought them last year and none of them grew?  Mmmm.  I just seem to throw them into shallow graves.  I will try once more.



 

Chocky wocky ...oh is that it?

Bit of a bummer today.  I've lost my phone and, as I had turned down the ring volume, I can ring it all I like and never hear a squeak from it.

I am still a contender for that prize - Britain's Oldest Menstruating Woman. So nice to be reminded once again.  And my hair has gone mad. 

I had an email from cow people to say the paint on the wings of one of the cows is bubbling a bit.  Oh how jolly.  Tough tit ... for now.

The chocolate show I went to, Chocolate Unwrapped, wasn't as spectacular as I had hoped.  There were no giant chocolate creations just polite little bars and boxes of chocs with teensy samples.  I ate 4,000 teensy samples until I felt sick.  They had bigger ones on the Lindt stand.  I had some of those too.  There was no water.  Parched beyond description I staggered to M&S for a bottle of water where I accidentally bought a coat, as one does.

Mad Carina has become unmad.  She is seriously taking herself in for correction.  This means no more endless mad gifts at five minute intervals with cards thanking me for being her friend.  Oh bollocks. She also looks a lot better these days.  It transpires her mother is living with her and I think Mad Carina realises it is time to grow up and show her mother that she is responsible and sensible.  Well, about time too. She is also on a diet.  However, I do note that she has bought the Lovely Claudia a ghastly birthday present.  Last Christmas she gave me some china that is particularly hideous.  Claudia waxed lyrical about it as we didn't like to say it was anything other than lovely.  Claudia and I had a good laugh about how simply awful it is when Carina had left.  That'll serve her right for being such a two faced cow ... and now she has some too just like me.

Ooooh goody John Lewis are delivering my new duvets tomorrow and the bed to put one of them on is due as well. Then, dare I say it, I think we have everything ready for Kent move on Friday.  Fingers crossed.

Ali Pali and me

Yesterday evening I received an email demanding an extra £50 from the storage people.  Apparently it is a handling charge.  What, for making all my stuff mouldy?   There didn't seem to be much evidence of handling as far as I can make out.  Anyway, I am not paying it and have handed the task over to Mr Smith.  When he was supping his red o'er the osso bucco I had cooked he promised to deal with these people in the strongest terms.  Good for him.  Bullying women is not very nice.  By the light of day he is a right pinny wearing girl.  Oh you can deal with it he says.  No I can't.  I think a man's voice will get it all sorted in no time.  Go Smithy Go.  Be my hero .... for once.

Last night I went to the launch of the Unfinishable Project's book and show.  It was brilliant. My one sock and unfinished glove felt proud to be part of such a great exhibit. I didn't stay long but the great thing is I got to see all the exhibits at the Knitting and Stitching show without any smelly people.  I got very wet waiting for a bus up at Alexandra Palace. It's just as well I know the view is great from there because you couldn't see one inch in front of your steamed up specks. 

Mr Smith has hung everything mouldy outside and opened all the doors.  The place is beginning to smell less like an old junk shop and a bit fresher.  The cushions required so many washes that vastly exceeded their value in electricity, soap powder etc.  Some I threw away.  Some are just airing.  Fabreeze and sunshine are apparently great for this kind of thing.  I am chucking as many of the mouldy disintegrating boxes as possible and replacing things in big plastic containers of which I have billions.  I just went big with the tupperware. 

Poo Day

Mr Smith was an absolute whizz at driving a van. He wore very scruffy clothes which I was annoyed about as it implied my boxes and furniture would be in some way dirty.  We arrived at the smelly damp warehouse in Sussex to find a good coating of mould on everything.  His sartorial sense was right, mine was wrong ... as usual. 

We went to Pizza Hut for lunch because it was easy to park the van there. Mr Smith had four helpings at the eat all you can. Honestly, I don't know where he puts it all, he's super thin.  I ate all I could and felt absolutely stuffed and my stomach stuck out like a beer belly.  I then tried to fill in my calorie diary - that was a bit of a joke.  I found bathroom scales amongst all my putrid stuff.  They pong a bit but tell me how damned fat I am. 

All my chattels are home and it is all pretty mouldy.  It basically stinks. I am washing and washing and washing.  It might be easier to throw some of the cushions away and start again.  All the throws absolutely reek.  I have washed one and hung it out and tumbled it with yucky fabric conditioner and still it pongs.  Now it's raining so I can't even put things outside.  Our house smells very musty and it is making me cough.  Spores.  Mr Smith told me to go somewhere else if I was going to cough as it was annoying him.  So kind.  Apparently I need something called Fabreeze.  I think it's for the furnishings not my cough.

I looked up how to remove mouldy smells from soft furnishings on Google and it involved some bleach followed by vinegar.  Everything now smells bleachy/vinegary/musty.  You need to wash it all twice.  I will be here forever.  The pile is mighty high.

Oh eff no.  I have ordered the wrong size curtains.  Oh woe is me.  I hope the curtain company can rectify my awful mistake.  I needed 4 curtains in total for the bay window so I ordered two pairs. Wrong!  I boobed it up completely.  Then there is the dilemma of the bed.  Do not try and do up a house from afar.  It is so difficult trying to get things delivered on time. I now have to make the bedroom curtains myself.  I can mess them up too.

I decided to off load some of our china on Freecycle.  A witch just appeared at my door to collect it.  I know I have off days but this woman just had to be one of the most terrifying sights to behold with long witchy hair, dreadful skin, awful teeth, hippy witchy garb and a broomstick.  Ok, she didn't have a broomstick. What was so odd is she was very well spoken and actually had a really pretty face.  A good lesson to us all if we don't keep up with our dental care and moisturiser and trips to the hairdresser.

I am off to Alexandra Palace later today for something lovely (and not a bit mouldy) that I will tell you about tomorrow. 










The duvet I have doesn't fit in my covers, the

Sisters three

Excellent Coven meeting today.  We chatted and ate cupcakes and I showed off as I am wont to do with best friends.  Having finished those heavenly cows I had to show and tell.  Then there was the jigsaw puzzle of one of my paintings, the Great Big Cake that I had taken out of the freezer and the newly painted cakes.   Painting cakes is a technique I have yet to perfect; it involves vodka and a bit of effort but I will get the hang of it one day.  The lovely friends all seem to like my cupcakes and take them home leaving me with none. This is no bad thing as I am awfully porky these days and I cannot find a diet that involves eating any form of gooey cake.  I put the GBC back in the freezer as nobody wanted to eat a mermaid.  Mr Smith thought we had eaten the whole thing.  Not even in our most starving moments would we do that.

And now to Sussex to relinquish my chattels from the grips of a particularly nasty storage firm who won't let me have my things so they can charge me more money for storage or an extortionate amount to deliver them.  We are hiring a van.  Mr Smith will be driving a white van .... you may want to make your journey by train today, especially if you are a cyclist.  I am so excited about seeing all my stuff again.  My paintings, my ornaments, my quilts and rugs, my umbrella stand, my big wooden chest, my kitchen stuff.  Of course Mr Smith doesn't want any of it.  Tough tit.  Whose flat?  Who's Queen?

Next week we take it all to Kent except I decided I couldn't quite face doing that so I ordered removals.  I went on a Go Compare Removals website and put in my details.  The phone goes every ten minutes and my inbox is full.  I chose Ramon who speaks dodgy English but assures me will be offering "very bestest of personal services for you".  He was cheaper than anyone else.

Moooving on

I quite miss those cows.  I am now well into my painting of the Lovely Claudia's Garden.  The only slight problem I have is my photographs were so awful it is a bit like doing a jigsaw with no picture and half the bits missing.  Anyway, I will give it my best shot and it might not look remotely like her garden but it will look like someone else's garden. I can always fill bits in later.

The new sofa has arrived for the seaside and every room is filled with bits of furniture and boxes ready for our big move which I so wish we were not attempting ourselves. I still might get removals people because some of things are very heavy and, although I might in the eyes of Mr Smith look like a big irish navy, I am not willing to put my back out loading up all this stuff. 

So exciting, I have ordered the curtains for the seaside sitting room.  They are very stripey.  Positively deck chair!  I have to find some fabric for the bedroom.  I have no idea what but I suppose I will know when I see it.  As long as Mr Smith doesn't become all poo faced about my choice I will be happy.  I am getting through some serious money. 

And now I have cakes and bread to bake.  It is absolutely lovely being me today. 

Prodigal washing

Mr Smith and the Apprentice went to Kent super early.  Mr Smith was golfing and the Apprentice was doing our electrics.  I was left alone all day to gaze into space but I didn't.  I went to Ikea and bought three pairs of scissors and a sofa.  The sofa will be delivered tomorrow.  Happy me.  I then went to Boots and bought absolutely everything I could think of for every part of my body.  I hope it appreciates it.

The Best Boy appeared having been away for a few days.  He produced a mountain of laundry which he left with me then disappeared for another four days of film making ... With no warm top or jacket. He had left them in the wash!  I gave him money to buy something .... From the charity shop.  Mustn't spoil the boy even though I did feel sorry for him; he is a trifle idiotic.

And now I have to cook a roast chicken dinner for my returning tribesmen.  Oh what a good woman I am.  Mr Smith should treasure me.

Pastures new

The cows went to their new home after me having a great deal of last minute panic.  Their owners were ecstatic and paid me.  They were so happy. After playing at their house for a bit - making tiny little wings for tiny cows and eating vast quantities of chocolate buttons, we all went out for dinner.  It was a lovely evening with too much food, too much wine and a train journey home feeling a bit squiffy.

Yesterday we went to Kent to see our new abode.  GarrytheBuilder had transformed the place.  The Apprentice has to go and do some electrics there.  Is this a wise thing letting your son do your wiring?   Anyway we loved it and next week it changes colour then the new carpets go down and we can fill it with furniture.  I am bursting with excitement. It really is going to be a lovely little retreat.

I have written off so many clothes with art projects various.  In fact I think I have almost no raiment without some sort of blemish upon it.  So we went to Ashford Retail Outlet heaven where I bought trousers in every colour and size as I never know if I am going to be fat or thin.  Cows made me thin with worry, Kent makes me fat with contentment. I also bought a handbag that I don't actually need because it was super cheap and fun and jazzy and just so me. Mr Smith was most encouraging.  maybe he thought I should have a treat after all my hard work.  Or maybe he just wanted a quiet life.

Cow palace

The cows now have a beautiful canopy over their stupid bodies.  I had a dreadful time putting it up as this is a job for 4 people not one.  Every time I put one pole up the other fell apart until the whole thing collapsed.  And it was raining. In the end I had to call upon the services of a rather stroppy Best Boy; he's always in a mood, that one.  Anyway, I now have happy cows who I caught laughing as the sun came out when I had finished erecting my marquee.  Oh God, I will be so pleased to see the back of them; they make me ill with worry.

 

I am making a list of lovely things to do when the cows are done.  Hairdressers, new clothes, outing to the Bronze exhib at the RA, making cupcakes, having my nails done, buying new makeup and choosing some curtain fabrics for the seaside flat.

Next job is a painting of the Lovely Claudia's garden.  Admittedly this is for no money but who cares? It's just stress free.  I need to do something I actually enjoy and gives me a feel good feeling.  I am supposedly filming this painting on time lapse Best Boy permitting.  He is a bit time lapse himself as he seems to live in a different time zone to any of us.  Anyway, the master plan is to make a little film of the painting appearing on the canvas.  How exciting.

And now to sort out one really big fat wing and one really skinny wing.  they only asked for wings ... Not a pair of wings.

Dancing another day

Well, it transpires the golf dinner dance, that I would rather impale myself on a Big Bertha than attend, is actually next weekend not Sat as I had thought.  That gives Mr Smith another whole week in which to change his mind about attending.  He had better not!

I am dismayed to see it raining all over the cows.  Oh dear.  I will go to Argos and procure one of those gazebo thingies.  They're only £18 and will keep the cows dry.  However, I will probably waste an entire morning erecting the damned thing.

Living in a state of extreme nervousness cannot be good for one.  I just get so damned stressed about these projects.  I really must learn to work within my comfort zone.  That means occasionally saying NO.  I so wish I had never taken on this cow project; it is so beyond me.  I am getting there but I wish I had another three weeks not three days!  But Mr Smith likes me to earn the occasional crust and the cow money will pay the builder at the seaside as opposed to Mr Smith paying the builder at the seaside which is what I had in mind.

Sorry I can't see beyond wings and udders these days ... Come Thursday I can return to the real me and it will all be cupcakes and paintings.  How Mr Smith will like that!

Winging it

Thank you so so so much Mr Smith for not making me go to the Golf club dinner and dance last night with all your horrid old cronies and their ghastly wives; even if this is because the tickets were £60 which you were too mean to pay.

Mr Smith has found a game larder shop in Kent and comes back with a haul that might make you think he was a full time poacher.  Last night we had wood pigeon which was OK but a bit pongy.  The night before it was rabbit stew and that was a bit on the high side too.  There is venison, partridge and something unidentified to go.  I just want baked beans on toast.  I am becoming increasingly unexcited by stinky bits of dead animals.  It's Romney Marsh lamb tonight; the stuff that has grazed in front of the nuclear power station and glows in the dark.  I will shove it around my plate.

I must away to my wings.  One is together ... shortly to be demoulded.  The other next.  Then major repairs then attachment. Oh God, please please make it go alright.  I am at the end of my tether here.

Later:  They went like a dream.  One is a bit fatter than the other but they are both wing shaped and the Apprentice admired them greatly.  Even Mr Smith raised an approving eyebrow.  I think he was dreading the floods of tears and "what am I going to do" wailing that was anticipated.  Now the next part of the saga ... attaching them. I fear it might rain tomorrow so it will be ... attaching them in the rain.  Mr Smith can hold the umbrella.

Who's Queen?

I nearly have wings. They are still in their casts but the two halves are bolted together and tomorrow morning I will aim to stick both bits together then get them out of their cases.  Then I will fly away. Except I have to work out how to attach the wings to the cow.  I think I will just not think about it and hope for the best.  I have had enough sleepless nights.  I have also had enough of fibreglass.  So have my poor family.

I took Mr Smith to B&Q to look at colours for (what is rapidly becoming his rather than our) flat in Kent.  He had his face on.  That is not a good start. We just got a matchpot of some pale yellow for the hall as my rather elegant grey has been ruled out.  I have given up all hope of this flat ever being mine.  I found some rather groovy spotty tiles but they were immediately disliked.  I thought they were just the thing for the kitchen.  I will put them up in the bathroom.  I will get a spotty blind .. aha. Then it will be a bit more Mrs Smith's bolt hole and a bit less Mr Smith's golf pad.

I don't actually like this pattern but I am getting a bit nosey spitey facey.

All things bright and beautiful

Ok now that I have eventually got this up and working I can't think of any burning issues I need to get off my chest.  Cow is now outside and the overpowering stink of resin has disappeared from our house. The really messy casts are off and I have done the first layer of fibreglass in the shed. God knows how I will get them together but that's the challenge for another day.  I have run out of catalyst - there is always something!  I have some other stuff that might do the trick but it gets very hot as it goes off and I don't want to burn the shed down.

Kent colours are proving tricky. Sedate grey is out.  I am now looking at shades of primrose with Mr Smith who I am convinced is colourblind.  Actually, no, he just has dreadful taste and picks yellows that would make traffic wardens feel excited.  It needs curbing.  I am aiming for something sunny and bright and seasidey.  Mr Smith is aiming for a migraine.

Prickly cow

Dilemma du jour ... There usually is one.  I have run out of fibreglass matting.  No bad thing in one respect as I have it stuck up my arms and I look like a cactus.  Every time I wear an item of clothing that too takes on cactus qualities which doesn't matter right now but if, in the distant future when I have stopped messing about with fibreglass, I should want to wear that item again ooooooh ow.  Anyway, off to see Ollie Pigeon for more fibreglass and more reassurance.  And then it's one step closer to finishing this vile thing.  I am ready to cast.  I just need a drill which the Apprentice has nicked and then I can make the appropriate holes and then with all my very most strength try to pull the moulds off the cows wings and chuck everything outside.  No more resinous pong.  I will remove myself to the shed to make the new wings for the other cow there.  I make it sound easy.  Watch this space.  I am either going to die of asphyxia or stress.  Yet to be decided.

Apart from cows there is the stress of decorating flat in Kent and preventing Mr Smith from putting traffic warden yellow on the bedroom walls and bright blue in the sitting room.  I think I have lost the sitting room battle and it will be sky blue.  However, I have chosen a rather sedate pale grey for the hallway which I know he hates.  Not sure I like it that much either but I am so anxious to avoid any shades of sludge.  Things are very mushroom there at the moment.  I want seaside crispness.

And now boys and girls I am going to make some Lovely Claudia bread from the flour milled by The Lovely Claudia's great grandfather; with bits of fibreglass or without?

You come knock knock knocking at my door

More things go wrong with the cow and now it's raining.  Oh dear.  I will never, ever take on a job like this again.  I bet I do.  I have "I've never met a girl like you before" stuck on my brain.  I only know two lines and they will be on loop in my head all day long. I will sing them to the cow until I download the song with fibreglass fingers and hear it on my iPad.

Now what?  Mmmm I have decided to go no alcohol for a week.  Easy peasy now but watch me climb up the wall on Friday.  Actually, I will still have a cow to wing so that will not happen as I need to be bright eyed and bushy tailed for every second of the day.

I was paid £75 for a job yesterday after which I took our balding dog to the vet.  We saw a new, rather thorough, vet who gave us new pills and a potion.  Cost: £75.  And I thought I would buy myself something nice with the money I had earned.  Oh well, if the dog ends up a bit hairier it will be worth it; I won't have to knit him a coat.

I am expecting great deliveries for Kent today.  It's the fire thingy and the lights.  Then I had better see what's happened to the bed.  Where is it?  Oh, and when can that builder start?  As soon as those cows are done I will go there.  Maybe just for the day but I would like to feel it is mine.  Then I can stop Mr Smith thinking it's his.

Who is George Foreman?

The cow client rang me last night.  Impending doom is back.  She is so nice and understanding; I told her everything has gone horribly wrong but I will do my best.  She was kind but she wants her cows back by the weekend with wings. oh ha ha ha ha.  Oh god, it looks like a few late nights and no Corrie for me.  I must get something that looks like a pair of wings out as soon as is humanly possible.  The latest horror is the two pieces have stuck together despite using mountains of release spray.  It appears not to work.  I will have to use something else on the other side.  I have been trying to cut them apart with a scalpel. Oh my goodness this is difficult.  Anyway, back to the shop today for more supplies.

I have been asked to do a bit of market research on electric grills.  I had no idea what an electric grill was until the Apprentice told me it's that thing endorsed by George Foreman who I don't think plays a ukulele. Wasn't he a boxer? Oh well I think the job is for Tefal so it doesn't matter who he is. Anyway, all I have to do is tip up for a bit of a chit chat and get £75.  Oh jolly deee. I was going that way anyway to get more supplies for the cow casting and they are just round the corner.

When the Lovely Claudia and I were at Earls Court Baking Show I bought some flour from a rather nice stand that had rows of milled flour in smart coloured packets displayed nicely. It was called Marriages.  It transpired that this was Claudia's great grandfather's family business.  So she and the girl on the stall ended up having a great chinwag working out how they were related.  It was positively Who do you think you are?  Last night I made bread from Claudia's bread flour and very good it was too.  I initially thought it wasn't as good as our usual but the whole load went in an evening so it can't be inedible.  Perhaps I should make a loaf for Claudia ....

When I have done the cow.

Have your cake and eat it ... All.

Ate the cake. Well, not every last mermaid scale.

This man, who I had never seen before, told me my cake was really good.  How nice was that!  He is Mary Berry's nasty sidekick on the Great British bakeoff which I will now watch with avid intent.

Paul Hollywood

The Rivals

There was competition, some of it serious.  The Great Big Cake looked rather splendid for about five minutes then I saw some really good ones.  Lend me a fork at once, I feel some stabbing coming on.

The fish and chips won though it wouldn't have been my choice.  rgere doesn't seem to be any actual cake although the fish and the chips are very realistic, and excellent newspaper.

Suddenly, I have this cosy blanket of relief that has engulfed me.  Oh me oh my, I am back to my normal self.  I can now get on with the cow without the feeling of impending doom I had hanging over me.  Of course I am very worried but nothing like I was.  I have had a serious look at Miss Cow and I think I will conquer the Problem of everything falling off ... A bit.  I have this week to finish making my casts then all hell breaks loose.

Anyway, on a good note I feel on top of the world but on a bad note I have my appetite back and haven't stopped eating.  I started yesterday with shortbread petticoat tails for breakfast.  I ate a whole circle and felt just fine.  It went gradually downhill from there until dinner time when I upset a glass of wine into a kitchen drawer and down me into my shoes which were rather squelchy. I just shut the drawer and kicked off my shoes. I will deal with it all another day.  Mr Smith just wanted to know why there is a pair of shoes in the middle of the kitchen floor that smell like an old wino's shoes.  He asks all sorts of stupid questions.

This morning I must cow then this afternoon meet the Lovely Claudia and Mary Berry at the Cake & Bake Show. Ooooh, it's fun being me.

Cake & Bake Show

I took my Great Big Cake along to Earls Court where I was greeted in style.  I was taken up in the lift to the display area where I met other cakeists.  I actually have to say mine, despite being a bit thrown together, held its head up.  It was the only early arrival in the amateur section.  By some miracle nothing fell off on the way despite Mr Smith's swervy driving and ManditheKiwi hitting a cyclist with the car door.  The cyclist wasn't too happy and I shouted and Mandi who then cried.  We were giving her a lift home on the way to deliver the cake. Anyway, it was very nice of Mr Smith to drive me there.  He sat in the car park listening to the cricket whilst I ponced about in cakeland feeling all happy.  When we got home I called ManditheKiwi and she perked up a bit despite being in her cups having drunk a whole bottle of wine.  It was the second cyclist with whom she had had an altercation in a day; Boris having nearly squashed her with his bicycle at lunch time.  She will have a headache today.  I have a headache today and I only had a few glasses of celebratory sauce.

Anyway, today I am off to the show for real, just for the morning to attend a lecture on painting on cakes.  You might think this is easy but let me tell you, my efforts have not exactly been Sistine Chapel ceiling ... More like that woman who bogged up the Jesus fresco in Spain. I am hoping to find out how to do it properly.

It was a great relief to get the cake finished and early too.  I wonder where all the other non professional entries had got to.  Claudia says they are all panicking madly and remaking their cakes for delivery tomorrow.. Badly!  Teehee.  On Sunday the Lovely Claudia and I are going to the show for the whole afternoon.  I am really taking advantage of my weekend pass.  I told her I had entered her for the live cake decorating contest where you have to decorate a dummy cake (a bit of cake shaped polystyrene) in an hour, being told the theme 30 mins previously.  Actually, it's the sort of thing I would be quite good at but enough is enough and I would probably get my knickers in a twist and if there is one thing I do not need it is any more pressure in my life.  I have a cow and Kent and Mr Smith to do that.

Grand Designs

Mr Smith rings me from John Lewis lighting department.  "Look on line at no 287". But I am up to my armpits in fibreglass in one room and in cake icing in the other.  Just buy the lights of your desires.  He wouldn't dare!  We checked out lights later together and he is going to buy them today.  Good heavens, I did two houses up completely by myself, in fact four.  I am not really sure how.  Maybe I didn't have such pressurised art projects looming over me at the time.  Anyway, I don't entirely resent the input of Mr Smith.  He is so excited about his poky little flat; I found him watching Kevin McCloud last night.

At the weekend I will be sending the Apprentice and Mr Smith off to Kent with the colour samples and light fittings.  They will also need a tea bag and a mug.  I shall pack them a little goody bag.

I found out that our flat belonged to two ladies with a preference for sensible shoes.  "So this is what lesbian bad taste looks like" says Gary our builder.  No, it's just naff.

Carry on screaming

Oh my goodness, these levels of angst are just too awful to live with.  The cows are just impossibly difficult but I have to do them - no choice.  The Great Big Cake is proving a bit of a challenge too.  The moulding paste got a bit too dry and cracked a bit making my mermaid look about 80 years old. Apparently you have to use vegetable fat to stop that happening.  Aha.  Now I know.

OK.  How to organise things:

1. Remove disastrous bit of cow wing and redo it properly.
2. Make items for cake off cake and glue them on.

1. Work on cake all morning.
2.  Drink a bottle of wine and forget all about the cows.

Oh I just need to calm down and never ever take on such difficult work ever again. The whole thing just makes me feel ill. I see how people end up having nervous breakdowns.

Mr Smith and I went to B&Q to choose a fire and some wall colours for Kent. Mr Smith chose traffic warden yellow for the bedroom.  Is the man colour blind?  I went seven shades lighter.  I then chose a particularly pale colour for the sitting room "atmosphere".  I will wear him down on that one. As regards the fire I told him I want anything except the Smeg.  He came home and ordered the Smeg on line.  I am now worrying about curtains and carpets. I just want a quiet life.  Get an interior designer.

Look, when those cows are done I can stop screaming.

Colour me beautiful

Well we are now the new proud owners of our pokey little seaside flat. What colour shall we paint the walls?  No idea.  I thought a very pale blue but they all look grey or white.  Mmmmm.  We don't agree.  In the end I will paint all four walls different colours and then we might at least like one of them.  I am giving our decorator screaming habjabs by making him paint bright red walls white and covering stripey walls.  Oh well at least I'm not doing it.  I am making cow's wings.

Today I have a very very busy day.  I absolutely have to decorate a cake and attend to those cows.  I might just do it all day long and see how well I get on.  Then tomorrow I can do some more.  Mr Smith wants me to investigate paint colours and buy a fireplace thingy.  I need a helper.  Not Mr Smith.

I have a knee.  It's giving me a bit of jip, especially at night.  I am trying to ignore it.  I thought it might be fuelled by alcohol but actually no.  I have been off the old sauce of late and it still hurts.
Mr Smith is most sympathetic - "They shoot horses" he says.

28 Years

Day off, yippee.  We are off to Kent to take possession of our new property.  Mr Smith is awfully excited and has a builder all lined up.  I am a bit indifferent.  Wish I had finished those cow's wings but I haven't.  It is a task so beyond me that I wake up screaming most nights.  I cannot sleep, I cannot eat and I cannot think about flats in Kent.

This week is primarily Great Big Cake week.  I made some brilliant pebbles and I am thinking about the shark and mermaid and I had a practice with the waves.  I have faith in this one although I am diving into the unknown.  It's quite good fun.

I love our days out to the seaside.  At last Mr Smith and I are doing something together.  It's taken us 28 years to find solidarity.

The late late show

My tummy hurts. This is because Mr Smith took me out for a delicious anniversary dinner and I thoroughly overdid it.  I feel so full.  I think it was the white chocolate and toasted pineapple tart that did me in.  The slight problem we had with our meal was the chronically slow service.  We didn't actually eat til 10 which gave us an hour and a half wait for our food. Too long. I was pretty pissed off but managed not to drink the whole bottle of wine before we ate.  I didn't want to drink without my food which meant getting through 3 jugs of water as an aperitif.  They were unusually busy and blamed the delay on two parties they had in.  They shouldn't have taken the bookings if they couldn't cope.  my dinner was fabulous  - just late.

The cow does not bode well.  Her wings are heavy and nothing sticks so it is all falling off.  I will try to stick things back today.  I have a cunning plan, Baldrick.

The cake is big and blue and high.  I see a few problems with that too.  Today I will make a shark and a mermaid and maybe an experimental wave.  Then I will work on shells.  Here's something tricky - a seagull made out of icing.  You try!  So far I have a penguin and a dodo and a bald eagle.

A relaxing day

Changed the sheets, bathed the dog, cleaned the kitchen, washed the floor, pegged out the laundry, made the Great Big Cake, put gel coat on cow wings which slid off in places, bought cake dec supplies, made cupcakes with ManditheKiwi and had a 28th Wedding Anniversary.  I'm shattered.

Didn't you go swimming?  No, Mr Smith, I didn't.  You lazy cow.

So many cooks

Today's blog reads exactly as yesterday's.  Put the stuff on the cow's wing and in the night it all slid off.  Add the momentous traffic jam I was stuck in all morning in the bus plus getting drunk with ManditheKiwi who came round for dinner, and that's my day.  I did meet up with Ollie Pigeon who explained the mysteries of casting a little more clearly.  I didn't expect him to be at the shop so it was a pleasant surprise to see him.  He says it always slides off but pay no attention.  Ah a Delia of a man. (I like her Don't worry if it goes a bit lumpy/curdles etc advice). He also sold me some thickener to make the stuff a bit more like toothpaste and a little less like glace icing.

We then concentrated on the Great Big Cake and how I was going to make little fish and shells from fimo then cast them and he had all the kit and a lovely little instrument to poke bits with.  I need to get some modelling paste and get cracking.  I feel a mermaid coming on at any moment.

Today is fish soup day.  Mr Smith demands Bouillebasse.  Mrs Smith and Anthony Warrell- Thompson will convene.  Soup will be made. I have found a nice Rick Stein recipe and there's a Jamie too. I have a better idea .... just buy some from Waitrose and chuck in a bit of extra prawn tails or something but annoyingly Mr Smith is at home today.  It's dalek Friday.  I don't want to be exterminated again like I was this morning for not getting out of bed super early and rushing off to the market before any of the stalls were set up!  If he sees me opening a can or packet of fish soup I may as well exterminate myself on the spot.

It is our wedding anniversary tomorrow.  I can't quite remember how many years but we got married somewhere back in the dark ages.

Messy Moo

OH NO.  I put the rubber solution on the cow's wing and it all slid off.  What a mess.  Start again. Back to Tiranti for more supplies and something to keep the rubber solution in place. I hate these fucking cows.

And now for something else I can mess up.  Mr Smith wants me to make Bouillebasse or however you spell it.  Fish soup.  Off to source some fish in North End Road market.  Not sure about mussels as I dont know if they have them in the market or how good they will be.  I might get those in a vacuum pack from Sainsburys.  Don't tell on me.

The Great Big Cake is all cooked and ready to be sculpted.  It is really fairly stress free .... Those cows are using every microbead of angst I can muster.  Tomorrow I will go to the cake decorating supplies shop - my heaven!

Oh look it is sunny.  Better go and make hay.

Melancholy mood

A better day for Mrs Smith although I am once again entering the competition to be Britain's oldest menstruating woman and got hit quite hard by pmt.  I was really down, still am a bit.  I just wanted to be quiet but my boys had loud football on telly and shouting.  I just wanted everyone to go away.  It is sunny today so I am perking up.

I took myself off to London town yesterday to visit Tiranti, the casting supplies shop, where I had a little refresher course on how to cast.  I took my not very trusty fold up shopping trolly that folds itself up at just the wrong moment and filled it with casting supplies.  My goodness it was heavy.  It only folded up its wheels once as I was getting on the bus and I had to drag it to my seat.  Embarrassing.  I kicked it a bit and locked its wheel back in place.  I think I was expecting rather great things of it.  Anyway, the chap at the shop was brilliant and explained everything so clearly and was so encouraging.  The client is paying for the stuff. Happy me.

Mr Smith has postponed the purchase of our flat til Monday. Perfect.  Sometimes he listens to me.  I just want to get the cows done then I can play at the seaside.

Reading interesting book The Beck Diet Solution.  This is not a diet but tells you how to stick to a diet and owns up to the fact that dieting is difficult, takes time and is like having a job.  It involves lots of sticky bits of paper and notes.  So if you see a woman carrying around lots of little bits of paper with little messages on them .. she's probably me.  I don't think Mr Smith is going to take kindly to awful little post-its everywhere.  I might skip that bit and stay fat.

Mrs Smith's day off

Yesterday I had a no cow day.  I needed to have a break as they are giving me a massive headache.   I did everything else instead.  I cleaned up our pigsty of a kitchen, baked the first section of the Great Big Cake, cleaned out the Dyson including washing some hidden parts.  Apparently you should do this monthly.  I have done it once in three years.  I then topped off my domestic achievements by cleaning the barbecue, a really disgusting job of unparalleled gunkiness.  Many pairs of rubber gloves and scouring things later it still looks greasy and vile.

I spent the rest of the day doing my, very difficult jigsaw puzzle.  I can't really moan as it was me who designed it.  The nice company are sending me a new board today without a bloody great ridge in the middle.  No charge.  Oh how kind, right and proper.  I don't even have to return the old one.

This morning I got up early, assessed the cows .... Mmmm.  Perhaps not as bad as I thought.  I then admired my squeaky clean kitchen and made two more layers of the Great Big Cake.  I made a bit of a botch turning out the top section but they all have to be sculpted into a giant mound so it'll be fine.
No cake crumbs allowed in my clean kitchen.  I told Mr Smith off for leaving his breakfast things on the side and standing messily. What a houseproud little fairy I am turning into.  Makes a change from a total slut I suppose.

Oh bullocks!

I am starting to panic.  Apparently we have only one day of nice weather left and I have to get the cows finished.  I sprayed one of them yesterday and all the spray just blew off like dust.  Oh blast.  I went and bought more spray paint but I am a bit afraid to try it.  The neighbours cough.  Spray paint is a bit ahem hack hack.  Mr Smith and I have moved the cows down to the vegetable garden.  He moaned.  I will cover the last of the beans in spray paint.  He will then moan more.

Then I have a set of wings to make.

Then I have to somehow attach a set of wings to a cow.

Then I can make my cake and do my jigsaw puzzle which is very tricky indeedy.  The expensive tray thing I bought to do it on has a nasty ridge in the middle.  I don't think it did when it came but I left in the hot sun so now it's all waffly so it's a bit like doing a puzzle on your bed.  I wrote to the people and moaned.  I suppose I will have to send it back but the Apprentice undid the parcel when it arrived and the packaging looks like a pack of wild animals have attacked it.

There is one blessing of the day, Mr Smith has gone to golf ... dressed like a stripey carrot.

Paying for the privelege

Mr Smith has offered me a lunch out at the golf club for our anniversary next week.  A bit dreary but I suppose so.  "Have you got any credit on your club card?" Yes thanks.  So I have to pay as well.  Stuff that.

We almost own our little Kent seaside retreat.  Next week I hand over all my money and we die poor.

I would have painted cows today but my jigsaw arrived.  I vowed to keep it for Christmas so I tore off the paper and made an immediate start and have done nothing else all day but sit in the sun piecing bits of monkeys together. It is very tricky.  The special mat thingy I bought is a bit waffly which makes the puzzle almost impossible.  I have complained.  I think it is because  I left it in the sun.  I woud send it back but the Apprentice opened the package tearing it to shreds.  Packing will be majorly tricky.

Day of Judgement

I love Fridays because Mr Smith does the housework and shopping and gardening.  I hate Fridays because Mr Smith is around all day and I feel I am being monitored.  I like staring into space, staying in bed and not doing much whilst he performs all the tasks.  It's what I do best.

Oh well, better get the old overalls on and out to the cows to prep their wings and mend and paint.  I am a little trooper, me.  Mad Carina is coming to visit later this morning and admire the cows.  I haven't seen her for ages and she's had a turn since our last when she was incarcerated in the loony bin and met a woman who was suffering from a conspiracy theory who showed Carina how to make a bomb.  I am looking forward to learning.  Maybe I could blow up the cows, ring the owner and explain there has been an awful accident.  Then I can make my cake.

Must get the dog's toenails clipped; they have grown into horrible talons that make a nasty clacking noise on the kitchen floor and make him rather lame.  Maybe the vet could do my toenails at the same time.

Oh for the wings of a cow

I went to the gym again today.  A personal trainer sat on me.  This is rather good actually; they stretch out your muscles and bend you and push your legs into uncomfortable positions then sit on you.  I must point out they are tiny little gymnastic looking girls not beefy men.

The cows are lowing.  I am idling .... waiting for materials to arrive.  I will paint the cows cream whilst I wait.  It is so lovely and sunny out and I feel rather well with my gymning and swimming.  I normally want to curl up on the sofa with a rerun of Corrie for mental stimulation of an afternooon but today I feel industrious.

Yesterday was my laundry day but I got a bit sidetracked along the way and forgot to peg out Mr Smith's clothes.  I did so later in the afternoon.  I then put mine on to tumble .... nobody will know.  Mr Smith came home whilst I was on the telephone to my mother.  "What time did you put these out?  Why is the tumble drier running on the hottest day of the year?"  9am like you asked me and the line was full so I thought I'd just get them done and out of the way.  A bird had pooed on his shirt.  Honestly you would have thought I had done it the way he went on.  He said it was because I had hung the shirt up late and the wrong way.  I thought a bit of subversive pegging out would go undetected; I didn't know we had grassy birds.  I ploughed through a mighty pile of ironing which he told me should have been done last week.  It was, it regenerated.  I noticed he was wearing his dalek socks.   I knew dinner was going to be a hoot.  The sauce wasn't quite right or something and it was the wrong kind of pasta.  He gave it to the dog who has had hiccups ever since. 

I wish I had a seaside abode.  The purchase of Kent has been delayed; our flat I mean, not the whole county.  I must cow.

Sweat sweat pants

I went for my Induction at the gym.  Can we stop now, I have really had enough?  That's just the warm up.  Oh.  Today I ache.

We bought a new dishwasher.  Well done.  It was not that easy actually; I won't bore you with every detail but just let you know you pay more for the thing to not have a front than a nice white one.  We want it to disguise itself as a kitchen cupboard so that's an extra £100 then we want them to install it and take the old one away, add another £100.  So really, the price is not the price and it is very expensive.  The alternative of washing up by hand is just not an option.  I hardly manage the saucepans.

I am waiting for my jigsaw puzzle to arrive.  This is very exciting.  My picture wasn't exactly the right dimensions and I couldn't sort it out because the customers wanted dinner and were starting to get tetchy and the Great British Bakeoff was on the telly.  Will they have cut off all the monkeys? Probably.

Today I will paint some cow's wings and design an amazing mermaid cake.  Sometimes it is mad being me.

Terrific Tuesday

What excitements do we have planned today then?  Oh yes, in a moment of desperation in pursuit of the ever elusive body beautiful, I joined the gym.  Today I get induced.  I think this induction involves some kind of assessment of my fitness levels which probably come in at a little below those of my sofa.  I hate gym.  I will give it a whirl and probably make an arse of myself then never go again.

I am beginning to hate the cows.  Don't tell them .... Please.  They are really difficult.  My friend Gordon Engineer rang me yesterday.  Oh what perfect timing.  He was kind and helpful and is going to give me lots of real advice on how to cast and attach new wings.  Ollie Pigeon was quite helpful but Gordon has lots of free kit for us.

Hooray, seaside flat purchase has been delayed by a few days, possibly a week.  May it stumble over many more legal problems.  I just need to get my cows out of the way.  Then the cake.  Then the next painting.  Then my holiday to the Caribbean.  Then Christmas.

Later this afternoon I am meeting Mr Smith in John Lewis to buy a new dishwasher.  Our current one is so awful it's time to throw in the tea towel.  I don't find this sort of purchase terribly exciting unlike shoes or dresses.  At least I don't have to try it on.

Gooey brains

Yesterday morning I zealously cowed but I didn't add enough hardener to the filler so it wouldn't set. Oh well, it probably will eventually.  I decided to eat chocolate in front of Cinderella whilst I waited.  It still didn't harden so I had a Magnum and watched the unbelievably beautiful Vivian Leigh as Anna Karenina - Kiera you really have your work cut out girl.  The filler was still sticky so I scraped it off and redid it.  I now need more kit and go for a swim to sort out my hideous weight gain and get some of the filler out of my hair.

It's a diet day today.  Whilst it's quite liberating not having to eat much of course all I do all day is obsess about food.  The forbidden biscuit becomes oh so desirable.  I will stay focused on my cows' wings which are supposed to look like smooth stone but actually look like moon.  They did look like mouldy cheese so there is a notable improvement.  I will just stay busy. I am trying to work out how to cast these wings and attach them to the other cow and design a big blue seaside cake whilst thinking of Claudia's garden.  You don't want to look inside my head, it's very strange.

I bought Mr Smith a device to help him cut straight slices of bread.  It looks a bit like a big toast rack.  The idea is you put your loaf into it and cut between the bars.  That bread slicer thing is useless, he says.  He's broken it.  Back to hunks and chunks for him then.  I will see if I can get a better one in Lakeland, if I can get past their obsequious over politeness.  I would love to find someone offhand in that shop - just for fun.