A horrid day

I had an awful day at work yesterday of being bossed about by a perfectly odious little madam to the point where I wanted to burst into tears.  I very nearly walked out but thought I had better stand my ground and rise above it.  I resigned later.  The final straw came when I found a report I had written late one night after a hard day's work hadn't even been read.  I was very cross.  When I got home tired and cross, well more purple with rage, I got a request to write another report.  When exactly?  I poured myself a lovely glass of wine and sat down to flick through a few really silly sports.  There is something hilarious about weightlifting when they can't do it.  Our divers boobed it, which is odd because it looked pretty spectacular to me.

I am trying to make Mr Smith understand that my job is pants and a waste of time and I am not going to do it any more but, let's face it, sympathy isn't his greatest attribute.

Hi ho

I am working today. I love the money but I hate the traffic and stodging around in a warehouse all day when I could be watching Olympic ladies weightlifting.  Judo, what's that all about? I watched one man wave his hands in another man's face then pull his pyjama top undone.  How the heck do they mark it?  Archery, oh those bows, please can I have a go?  Oh woops that wasn't your best player was it?  Sorry.
I now have to take my car in for an MOT which is only exciting if you are my car.  Then I have to dodge those Olympic lanes all the way to groovy Lewisham.  All for a crust.  Actually, I may as well string this job out as I am the only person in this family earning any money right now.  Mr Smith quite enjoys sending me out, he enjoys sending my invoices out more.  

Gardening all sorts

Going to watch the bicycle race was overrated as all I saw was a blur that whizzed past me and I missed all the good bits, like the crash and them stopping for a wee, and had no idea which were the British cyclists. Oh, the slow ones at the end but I had dashed back home by the time they came past to try and catch the last bit on the telly. I missed it. Oh well, I can now say I went to the Olympic games.

I gardened yesterday, a bit half heartedly but with a tactic. I thought if I did a bit and showed Mr Smith what I was aiming at he could do the rest. Seems to be working so far. I might have a little nap now whilst he's not looking.


 I thought I would give myself a bit of attention yesterday after my mighty swim. I started at the top and worked down. I now have well conditioned hair all one colour, moisturised body, shaped finger nails (a bit dirty from gardening), oiled feet, trimmed toenails, hairless legs and underarms ..... Oh my goodness what a palaver. It took me most of the day and there's still many an unkempt bit. My face could do with a lift ... oh, alright, I'll just use some moisturiser for now and pluck my eyebrows .. Ooh ouch. Mr Smith failed to notice any improvement whatsoever. Maybe I will fail to notice his weed clearance.

Go team GB ... away

Then I lost my swimming goggles. Yesterday I didn't lose anything but that's probably because I didn't move from the sofa all day long. I had Olympic Games to open. Actually I did go to Kingston market in the morning to buy things that Mr Smith also bought in the supermarket. Mine were cheaper, his were better. And now I have to compete in a bicycle race. It almost goes past my door but then looking at the length of it, 250k including nine times round Box Hill and back through John Lewis, I think it goes past everyone's door. I once walked up Box Hill two years ago and I still ache.

Um er what?

Apparently memory loss is the third type of diabetes often linked with blood sugar levels. Well, admittedly I forgot about breakfast yesterday but then I forgot everything all day long. I forgot to get up which resulted in me being chronically late and I didn't have time to go swimmming before visiting Claudia despite putting on my swimsuit under my dress. I went to buy her some flowers, being a nice friend, popped into Boots for something but couldn't remember what, forgot where I had parked the car, then forgot how to get to Claudia's so rang her for instructions but realised had forgotten to charge up mobile. I then nearly forgot reason for visiting Claudia which was of course to paint her garden. Did a sketch and took some photos. Went home but forgot the way, forgot to stop at swimming pool, went home, went back to pool, forgot to shower after swim, forgot which locker I'd used and where I had parked car. Got home. Sketch of Claudia's garden looked like a load of incomprehensible squiggly lines; just as well I'd taken a load of rubbish photos that made no sense whatsoever. What was for dinner? Fish. It's supposed to be good for your memory. Today I will arrange a date to paint Claudia's garden properly .... and I will write it down so I don't forget.

Parasol Olympics

Painting by numbers is coming along ... slowly. I had a bit of a hot time as Mr Smith had for some ridiculous tidy reason decided to take the garden umbrella down. It had been erect for the past few weeks of torrential rain but when I needed a little shielding from the baking sun it was lying down on the ground in a heavy manner. I tried to lift it like a large caber and tottered about with a great deal of inelegance but failed to ram it into the little hole in the table. I gave up and got sunstroke instead whilst painting in one teeny not very good lizard. So so exciting - today I am going to play at Claudia's house. I am planning a painting of her garden and I mean real planning with pencils and everything. This is for her birthday in October and, at the paraplegic snail's pace I adopt, I had better get cracking. Perhaps I ought to finish something first.

Expanding foam

I had a very tricky time after swimming yesterday as I seemed to have expanded in the water and couldn't do my dress up. It did up before I swam but maybe that's because I had my swimsuit on underneath and it sort of held in the fat bits like a giant girdle. I just plonked my cardigan over the hideous gaping flab sticking out at the side but it was a very hot day and I felt fit to expire in a cardi. It wouldn't have mattered that much if I hadn't then lost my front door keys and found myself locked out of home. I wandered about a bit, went back to the club, searched the car park, asked at the front desk but all to no avail. I could just imagine them saying "If you find any keys they belong to a sweaty fat woman who is bursting out of her clothes." You can add mad hair to that as I hadn't quite got to grips with the styling control on the hair dryer in the changing room and adopted a blast-and-go approach to my barnet on the surmise that I wasn't going to see anyone for the rest of the day. I have had a painting on the go for far too long. I have tried every tactic in the book to get it done from staying up late to doing short sharp bursts. I am now taking the little by little approach. This means I set out the paints and brushes do a little bit then walk the dog, perform laundry tasks, make Mr Smith's dins and go swimming, lose front door keys, pay the paperman, find keys down passenger side of car, change the sheets, sort out stuff for charity shop and cook quinoa (my new healthy tribal fare) and write shopping list. This left half an hour to paint in some leaves then pack everything away for another day; nice neat leaves. Anyway, I don't imagine it will be madly different today except I will wear something looser. I do hope I am not supposed to be at work.

Torching the way

I don't really hate my job; I just would rather be at home painting beautiful pictures. Anyway, I have scrubbed and polished many boxes and nice artists have come in so I have a sense of satisfaction, sort of. But better than that, I have the day off. Oh look a glorious sunny day. I will swim and I will paint and all will be well with the world. The Apprentice writes from France to inform me the Olympic torch will be carried through Kingston and Richmond today. Better avoid them then. It went from Lewisham to Wandsworth yesterday, as did I. By some miracle I didn't get stuck behind it. Now to wash sheets and hang them out to get bird pooed.

Going going gone

Watching the Artbox internet auction was edge of sofa pant wettingly exciting. The last second bids were just wonderful and some actually went for slight rather than massive losses. Mad Carina came round for tea and I made a lovely coffee walnut cake of which I ate vast amounts so now I am very fat and heavy. It's always nice to see Mad C even though she is truly bonkers. I spent much of the afternoon mending a plastic heron for Lidia's Artbox. I pinned his feet and put one of his legs in splints. I did quite a good job even though I say so myself but when I went to get him I found Mr Smith had clumsily knocked it over and completely broken it. Worse than that, he showed absolutely no remorse. Back to square one. I am back at work today. With any luck this should be my last day but then I so love the money.

What a load of rubbish

Ooooh it's sunny. Oh no, that means I'll have to do some gardening and I was going to spend the day tipping out my wardrobe and ruthlessly throwing stuff out. This usually results in a beautifully tidy cupboard full of things that don't fit. Mr Smith has not gone to golf. He is at the tip. I am not exactly sure what he has taken to the tip because I am looking at a huge amount of rubbish that hasn't vanished. I think it might be one flimsy bit of paper representing his past employment. This is obviously cathartic for him and a sign that he is moving on. Good boy. I am working again tomorrow which fills me with a sense of foreboding. Olympic traffic plus a load of people who couldn't care less what happens to the phone boxes. Actually, the artists care and they come and repair and chat which is lovely. Just pay me and make me happy. I haven't yet mended Lidia's stork. It's actually a plastic heron with serious leg issues. The Apprentice son rang from France yesterday. He is to grace our shores at the end of next week. I might muck out his room in readiness. I might not.

Going going gone for the weekend.

End of week, yippee. I am phone boxed to the hilt. They are all ghastly. The ones at the Charity Auction event went for teeny amounts of money as nobody much turned up. Poor Childline, they are still poor. Now to see how sad the prices are for the remaining ones on the eBay auction.

Olympic driving

The journey to work these days has been a breeze. I just travel in the Olympic lane like everyone else. It's either that or the bus lane and everyone knows you cannot drive in a bus lane without your husband seeing your fine, especially as I was driving his car when I last got done. The drive home, on the other hand, has been a complete nightmare. I am going to knock off early tonight and cook Mr Smith a yummy dinner .... Or at least something that won't actually poison him. The big charity auction was held last night. I wonder how it went. I am bursting to know.

Let me in

Today was more fun than yesterday at work because I was locked out. ManditheKiwi and I ended up eating breakfast in MacDonalds (because they have wifi) trying to justify its nutritional qualities in a ridiculous way. "Well burger is protein and rubber eggs are ok and the teeny little bit of lettuce counts as one of your five a day." I gave her my soggy potato cake thing in a paper bag. ManditheKiwi has interested parties trying to buy Big Ben phone box. Of course BT want to leave it in the online auction until the end of play whilst the prospective buyer just wants to buy it. I just want the whole thing to come to a glorious end. I found out we are now going on to the end of August .... I'm not. Well, that depends on what I am working for ... This week it's a sofa for new flat.

Guano

The total uselessness of the rubbish outfit I work for and their inability to do anything I ask, combined with having to be nice and bottle up my deep frustration, has resulted in a stinker of a headache. I woke in the night with this ghastly pain in my brain and thought I might not make it to the morning. I did. Maybe I am not cut out for work. The dog rather enjoys work on the other hand. He strutted about the warehouse peeing on several boxes, a sign and a roll of packing material. I cracked on with loads of work much of which was scraping pigeon poo off telephone boxes. Such fun. Today should be much the same.

New Term

We are all back to school today down at the warehouse in Lewisham. It is time to get the phone boxes ready for auction. I have moved up a form and am now artist rather than scrubber. Oh hooray, no more bog cleaning for me. I am taking my pet with me today to show and tell. (Nobody home to walk him). He'd better not lift his leg on any phoneboxes if he wants to still be my pet. Mr Smith has kindly lent me his smelly car so smelly dog can spend most of the day in it. Now I am chanting my little mantra about not being rude to anyone and hoping it works. Mr Smith says absolutely no chance! I feel a bit tetchy already and I haven't even set off yet. Wish me luck.

Going nuts

I am keeping up with the healthier eating mode. No diet coke has passed my lips since last Tuesday and Mr Smith and I have been most nutty, beany and grainy. Gosh, it'll be tofu sarnies in no time. I am back to work tomorrow - groan (with a perfectly balanced packed lunch). I don't want to go. Mr Smith is excited in a very different way because if I work we get a crust. He has started evaluating my pay in relation to things we can get for our new flat. This week I am working for a sofa. I will then lie upon it comatose for the rest of my life.

Domestic bliss

Oh look, it's raining. I thought it was supposed to be sunny today; how wrong I am. Mr Smith is performing in golfing marathons various so I can get on with being gloriously lazy by myself. He only informs me of these so I can have his "tea" prepared for when he gets in, as in "Why is dinner not ready? I told you what time I'd be in." I then have to break the really good news to him of there being no dinner as I couldn't be arsed. The Best Boy is slumped unconscious somewhere in preparation for tonight's night shoot and the dog is hiding in case I make him wear his mac and drag him out into the rain. I think he looks smart in his little chequered coat but he has that look of "I do so hope we don't meet anyone we know". Mr Smith and I have been marvellously healthy over the past few days. We snack on nuts and seeds, raw carrots and dried fruits. We have berries and oats for breakfast, salad for lunch and meat and veg for dinner. Send donuts, it's beginning to pall.

Oh what a saga

The Lovely Claudia had to perform a little market research this morning on elderly pensions or something at the Over 50s show at Olympia. For some unknown reason I accompanied her. I think it had something to do with Fridays being Mr Smith's At Home days and I would infinitely prefer him to Hoover, iron and shop rather than nag me. Despite being a fairly grim affair I bought three pairs of reading glasses, a truckle of cheese, a static caravan and a retired greyhound. Claudia made me watch a very poor fashion show put on by a few pensioners who shuffled down the catwalk in ghastly clothes with as much pzazz as if they were in North End Road market in the rain. I looked horrified and Claudia hurried me away so I didn't put the poor dears off their stride/hobble. I got picked up by a horrible old git in a nasty tweed jacket between Meals-on-Wheels and Cruises 4 U. I managed to head him off but not before someone tried to sell us a South African safari - cor I can't half pull em.

OMG

I am sporting a headache worse than almost any hangover I have ever had. I want to die. Actually I probably don't have a brain tumour but am suffering from caffeine withdrawal. See you when I'm better or back on the diet coke.

Less bubbly

Ball gowns at the V&A is quite scrumptious. If only I was thin enough to fit into any of them - they all looked a bit size zero to me. The BB opted to stay at home and watch his gigantic television which was just as well really as the design exhib was dead boring. I have decided to give up Diet Coke as it is terribly bad for one and makes me fatter rather than thinner. This coincides with a cupboard stocked for drought/famine in that department. 48 diet cokes anyone? I am not actually aiming for a ball dress but it would be nice if some of my clothes fitted.

Culture Vulture

No telly for me is working a treat. I did succumb to Pointless but that was because the BB was watching it and I felt it was educational to watch a man in full make-up camply fail to know any Nicholas Cage films. But that was all folks. I then painted my, very tricky, painting. It's just a load of plants and a few monkeys but it is making the creation of the Sistine Chapel ceiling look like light recreation. I will adopt a different approach - go out and do something different. I shall drag the BB to the V&A for a bit of culture. Do you think he'd like Ball Gowns? Oh may be not. There is something about British invention that will suffice. Then I am off to Covent Garden to see a man about a bit of research, as one does.

Doing not viewing

The Best Boy (youngest film-making son) returned from his latest shoot very tired as he had been doing nights.  This means he will be totally nocturnal for the next few days.  Actually, I can't quite cope with him at breakfast so that's fine by me.  He nicked the new home cinema for his room.  Well, we would never have worked out how to put it all together.  He tells me the Blue Ray thingy is quite amazing but the tv itself needs some more kit.  Oh right, over to you son, I have given up telly, remember. 

I finished a painting.  Want to see it?  It's not great but some of the chickens are recognisable.

Abstention

Come on Andy, come on Federer. Oh it's just too confusing. So much for less tv watching. I have become a total square eyed sloth over the past few days. I might have to impose a complete ban of all tv watching next week. I wonder if I can. It would be so good for me.

Foreign parts

I am so fed up with Mr Smith's constant golf tours I have booked a jolly holiday for me. I am going to the Caribbean in November. So we are back to competitive holidaying once more. It is a working holiday; I will be working on my tan. I have decided something exciting each month is the only way to keep me happy. In September we get our new seaside pad which I then have to redecorate and then move into at the end of October. Then I can enjoy my November treat followed by Christmas. Oh it's just lovely being me.

Life as we know it

Today I had one of those "Today is the start of the rest of your life" moments. So I bounded out of bed, went swimming, walked the dog, made cupcakes - well one needs to be prepared for the rest of ones life - then tried hard not to eat cupcakes - did a spot of work, did a spot of housework, did a spot of paid work then the Lovely Claudia came round and the day deteriorated into Pimms in one hand, cupcake in the other and sod this rest of life thing; let's die happy.

A bigger picture

Our dog has suddenly decided to radically change his behaviour. What is this about? Overnight he has decided he hates carrots. He was a real little carrot muncher until Monday. Carrots are good for his teeth and aid digestion as well as being less fattening than biscuits. Anyway, he looked at me with his "I am not a rabbit, you stupid woman" look then, in the night, pooed on the kitchen floor. This is the end! Mr Smith won't eat carrots either - gosh I hope he doesn't poo on the floor. The dog is now curled up at the end of our bed all sweet and snuffly on his little rug and I can't hate him but I am expecting better behaviour.

Yesterday an enormous television arrived. Think big then think bigger. It came with surround sound for one's whole Home Cinema experience. Sadly the Apprentice son is in France so it will just have to stay in its enormous box until he comes home and puts it together. I bought it at a charity auction for an amazingly low price which I thought was below the reserve but they obviously didn't mind too much and I have an incredible bargain. After about an hour of wondering what on earth I am going to do with this giant monster a man came to take it away. How odd. I refused. I want my bargain telly ... even if it is at least 20 inches bigger than feels comfortable.

Finished a Painting - Yipee

What do you mean, you've seen it before?  Not this actual one you haven't though I must admit to having painted it once or twice or seven times before. 

It's clean, that's it.

That's the housework done for the next six months. Mr Smith is home. Did he notice the tidiness of our abode, the gleaming kitchen, the sparkling dog, the glistening silver, the preened carpets, the crisp flat ironing, the perfectly arranged flowers on the buffed and polished tables? What do you think? He really only noticed a wife about to expire from exhaustion. No you can't have dinner as I don't want to mess up the kitchen. Maybe I ought to consider getting a cleaner.