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!