New Year's Eve

Pub party tonight.  There's nothing like enforced enjoyment to make you wish you were in bed.  PooFace Humbug Features will be jollying along with me .... groan.  Oh well, he can come late and leave early whilst I have a jolly time.

I shall make some ridiculous resolutions.

No more eating standing up.
No unnecessary chocolate ie casual chocolate - only emergency chocolate.
Oh that's enough stupid resolutions before I promise to not drink, smoke, lie or swear for the whole year.  Of course I will be getting thinner and fitter and less greedy and more perfect in every way but I resolve to do that every year.

And here's to the barmaid who was sacked last week for shoving too much cocaine up her nose and generally being very unreliable.  Thanks for causing a bit of a scandal cos we don't get much round these parts.

Happy New Year forgot acquaintances.

The End

Oh goodness me, I blinked and it was the end of the year.

We finished decorating the downstairs of our house and Christmassified it suitably.  Mr Smith put off getting a tree for so long we almost didn't get one.  We had three in the end.  The first was our plastic whirl of lights that we always have - the invisible non drop tree with no tree at all - quite a hit with Mr Smith. The second was the proper lovely tree with the baubles and lights and a general disruption of furniture to fit it in.  The third was a baby tree bought two days before Christmas to decorate our alcove.  Much tutting and sighing by Mr Smith Poo Face Humbug Features.

Our house really is so lovely.  The curtains all turned out wonderfully and our paintings fitted in perfectly and we really are deliriously happy.  We had a Christmas of roaring fires and lovely guests, too much to eat and drink and a general spiffingly good time.

Presents: Mostly fab, heavy on the kitchen gadgetry.  I particularly like the juice maker having always thought that was vegan hessian wearers fare; I am now rather partial to an appley orangey lemony breakfast tipple.  Just the ticket for my over stretched liver.

I have new wellies.  Well, it was Christmas and Mr Smith's generosity knows no bounds .... They were in a sale.

Today they have all gone.  I was thinking of starting my diet. It is raining.  A howling wind is coming down the chimney and I feel like finishing all the Christmas cake on my own.  Is there any chocolate?

Sleeping dragon

Less fat now but woefully drowsy.  The dog and I both snooze at every opportunity snoring in glorious unison loudly.

I had a wonderful time in the Caribbean where I was Queen of the island, courted at every moment.  It was a very weird dream .... But it wasn't a dream and I sold so many paintings.  Wheehee.

I just need to wake up before Christmas.  Thank heavens for online shopping.

Home and away and home

It got cold.  I went to the gorgeous tropics.  Then I came home.  Now I am cold again and very very fat.

Mormonics

Tonight we, family Smith including Mr Smith, are going to become Mormons.  No we're not; we are going to the theatre to see The Book of Mormon.  It was one of Glen the Good's magnificent deals which meant we pay more to sit in worse seats!  He means well.

Our trip to Goa all seems to be going well.  Glen the Good was about to book stinky airways to save 3p.  I decided there was absolutely no way the lovely Naomi with kidney dialysis is doing that so I booked them on British Lovely Airways in the nice seats (Premium Economy) with a hope they will get bumped up to either business or first class.  They were also staying in some grotty apartments until I suggested they stay in Hotel Posh with us.  I have to hand it to the chap, he magically got a massive reduction in price.  There are seven of us going so far.  Positive coach party!

Broom broom woof woof.

My car went to the vet; my dog didn't.  The service for my Mercedes cost a million pounds; I very nearly cried.  I was so angry at the £990 bill that I forgot to take the dog to the vet.

Too much drinking is going on here.  Mr Smith is almost as bad as Mrs Smith.  On Monday he was fantastically drunk and fell down on his return from the pub into a box of lampshades which I can assure you was not very good for the lampshades.

Don the Decorator is taking a Forth Bridge approach to painting our bookshelves.  Many a layer has been necessary. I would like to wait a week for the paint to be really non sticky before putting books all over them.  The problem with this is I will be away and Mr Smith will be left to organise the books.  I have to say they do look splendid; It's a shame they are only going to house a few copies of Wisden and the odd Mickey Spillane.

And now it is painting time.  I am off to Nevis on Tuesday.  I must try and get my painting done as best I can.  The more I do now the less I have to do there and the more I can enjoy myself. I mean all work no play makes Jill a boring cow.

All sorts sorted

We sorted out the mad woman downstairs at the seaside flat.  She just needed a man to go "there there we will sort it all out for you".  I sent two.  My husband and Damp Proof Mark went to her flat and did their stuff.  She is now placated.  I did not visit her for fear I would tell her what I thought of her and her very rude threatening manner.  How dare she frighten my Mr Smith like that with her nasty aggressive tone.  She is off our Christmas list.

Our sitting room is finished but for a curtain and a radiator.  So it is freezing cold and very echoey.  My new sofa in my sitting room is proving very popular, especially with the dog.  I have hardly had a look in.  I am desperate for the shelves to be decorated so we can get our books out of their boxes.

Last night was Girls' Night Out.  It was extremely good fun, we bopped til we dropped, we drank a lot, we danced around a handbag and were thoroughly silly.  Naomi looked like a radiant little fairy.  It was really her party.  She is dying and I keep forgetting as she is such fun and so vibrant; she lives every day as though it is her last.  When "On top of the World" was played she cried. She just felt on top of the world surrounded by friends having what could be her last girls' night out.

Mr Smith and I are going on jolly holiday to India with Naomi and Glen the Good in January.  Given it could be her last holiday, we are all staying in Goa's most beautiful hotel.  I am so excited but I am terrified for Naomi as she is incredibly ill awaiting a kidney transplant.  This will be her last holiday before the operation and there is a very likely chance that she will die on the operating table.  Our lives have already been touched by Naomi in a lovely way as she is terrific fun and we adore her although we have only lived here for three months.  God, I hope she makes it through.

My latest diet hasn't worked.  Much deprivation just to stay the same stupid weight.  My scales might be a bit dodgy.  I need to stop boozing.  I will do it.

Damp squibs

We have a flood.  Our radiators have been removed so the painters can paint behind them but water is gushing out of their pipes and flooding our cellar.  I mop as I write.  Well, Mr Smith empties buckets and cossets his wine as I mop and find an old towel.

Our neighbour downstairs at the seaside flat is being a monster woman.  She is trying to scupper our sale which is very mean.  Especially as we have tried hard to help her sort out her damp problem.  She has left it for ages and refused all help so far.  I despair and Mr Smith is rather cross.  He thinks this is all my fault.  It probably is.

We have planned a little holiday.  We are going to Goa in January with Glen the Good.  It seems loads of people from Kent will be there.  Home from home as the village decamps to India.  So glad we have been included.

Now to battle on with getting an Indian Visa.  Names and professions of grandparents?  Were they nationalised by birth?  What is their designation?  What?????  Oh, why doesn't someone rewrite this form?

Whizz bangs

We went to Rye Bonfire festival and it was wonderful.  Mr Smith had his poo face on because we had a long wait for the torchlit parade.  It was all quite medieval with a glorious fire breathing dragon at the end.  The parade ended with torches being thrown onto the enormous bonfire followed by spectacular fireworks.  We ended up in a pub with a lot of roman soldiers in full armour and other revellers.  It was fun.  We then came home to singing in the pub - loudly.

We are planning a trip to Goa.  It looks most exotic.  I thought it all looked rather expensive until I realised a rupee is only 1p.  Even I can work out the exchange on that.

My new pale blue sofa, which is ridiculously too big for the room, is just the most comfortable squidgiest sofa ever.  It is also very elegant.  The dog is eyeing it up as new day bed ... I think not.  It is mine.  I have banned all tv watching from my new sitting room/library which is great in theory but I am bored now.  It's all very well designing your house like a magazine but it isn't entirely practical.

Totally brill weekend

Oh we had such fun and drank far too much and had monster hangovers and walked on the beach at Dungeness to blow away our cobwebs.  They stayed til Monday afternoon which was an added bonus except our house was back to a building site as usual.  It only manages to look respectable and workmen free at the weekends.

My poor dog has been diagnosed with Cushings Disease.  He is rather ill.  The vet will make him better.  His legs are skinny and his tummy is round.  He huffs and puffs a lot and can hardly walk.  We just thought he was getting on a bit.  What dreadful neglectful owners and, actually, shockingly bad London vet.  Poor woof.

Less Smiths more others

I have cleared out some Smiths and am replacing them with MY friends.  These are my slightly flakey lovely friends who are not brilliant at getting their act together so will probably arrive rather late without their hairbrushes.  They are quite the messiest people I know but they are brilliantly good fun and my life would never have been so enjoyable had I never met them.

What an odd day.  It keeps changing from glorious summer to blustery autumn every five minutes.  It will probably rain soon.  I so hope not as we have a firework party to attend tonight.  Something called The Obliterator is set to go off over our house at 9pm.  I hate fireworks. Mr Smith hates them more than me.  The dog hates them most of all.

Right, better resurrect my rather flat cake and hide the brick that came out of the bread maker; I will eat it.. I can only think there was a yeast issue.

I have developed a liking for Sloe gin.  It really helps with my cough and is much nicer than Benylin.  I'm fast becoming one of those old ladies on the gin.  Lovely.  Mr Smith so disapproves.

Too many Smiths

This house is designed for lots of people.  However, 6 people, a dog and a cough are too much for me to cope with.  Our youngest son is rude and awful and now 24.  I ate the remains of his birthday cake for breakfast.  November diet is going well!  I was going to wash it down with a glass of Sloe gin (medicinal for my awful cough) but Mr Smith was watching.  I'll have some for elevenses.

All birthdays are now dealt with.  Mrs Smith Mother of Mr Smith enjoyed hers.  She bought me a floor polisher which should arrive today.  I know it was her birthday not mine but it is a house warming present.  For someone who refuses to use the Internet she absolutely loves Internet shopping and shiny floors.

Our kitchen cupboards and dog have been painted.  All white and lovely.  A carpenter is carpenting and we should have somewhere to store our books soon other than in the cloakroom, the dining room and sitting room, upstairs in various rooms and in the kitchen.

Grouchy old Poo Face, Mr Smith, is being dragged to the cinema today to see Captain Phillips.  I was looking forward to a film about a foggy chap who married into the royal family but then got dumped. Apparently it is about pirates.  Oooh I do love a swashbuckler.  Oh no, it is about Somalian pirates who don't wear pretty clothes or have parrots.  It sounds a bit boring.  Having made such a scene about Mr Smith party pooping everything all the time I am pretending to be really enthusiastic.  Yeah, but I enjoy an outing and maybe I can get some longer curtain poles whilst we are in town.

I bought a spider outfit for tonight's Halloween Party but I feel a bit ill so maybe I will just get Mr Smith to wear it.   I jest.  The Apprentice (eldest son) will probably wear it then knock things over with all those arms and legs. I will go as a devil woman ..... Myself.

Ups and downs

Mr Smith, brother of Mr Smith, got me back for the single bed; we had to sleep on the world's most uncomfortable sofa bed on Saturday night.  Never again.  And the loo was in a cupboard.

We went to a very dull party on Saturday night.  Mr Smith only told me on the way there that it was only tea and cakes (canapés).  I was rather cross as I had had my hair done.  I wanted to go home.  We had fun in London on Sunday morning. Then we went to my brother's for my mother's 80th birthday.  It was a yummy lunch and their house is so lovely and full of beautiful things.   My mother was pretty awful to me.  I just ignored her. It was her day so I didn't want to make a scene.

The huge storm blew but it was over quite quickly.  Thank heavens.  Gloriously sunny today.

I am in big trouble at the pub.  It involved a hole in the ground and a misconstrued message.  I think I have sorted it out but not sure.  I think I had better lie low for a few days. I feel very upset by it all.

My new bedroom curtains have arrived. They are too big. But they are gorgeous. A bit like me really.  

First and last?

I have a hangover.  This is the first real hangover I have had since living here.  I thought I was invincible.  I thought I could drink anything in huge amounts and escape the dreaded headache .... Wrong.  It found me.  Ahhhhhggggh.  I have had three very delicate days.  Actually this is the third.  Poor little me.

I have started a painting, a bit half heartedly.  I am just waiting for some sort of miracle to happen and I will somehow get it together.

Mr Smith, brother of Mr Smith, came to stay.  He's coming again.  He likes it here even though we gave him an uncomfortable single bed and no ensuite bathroom.  He is frightfully dictatorial telling me what I am to have etc.  I will have want I want thanks.  I wonder if he would like to stay at the seaside flat next time?

The painters painted the walls the wrong colour.  Some mix up at the paint shop.  It was dark cafe au lait instead of light Elastoplast. It's perfect now.

Strippers

Mr Smith and I finally agreed, after much deliberation and mind changing, on the sitting room curtains.  Then we changed our minds.  So we are rushing off to the shop today before we change them again.

Men are stripping upstairs.  Two old geezers are redecorating rather than visiting Chippendales performing the full Monty in my bedroom. It is going to be blue.  I would prefer a jolly yellow but have selected a calm colour to dull Mr Smith's ardour.

I went to sewing last night which I infinitely prefer to art class.  They are really nice and seem to think I am splendid - frightfully good arrangement!

Liver and flies

My liver aches which might have something to with my permanently pissed state since I arrived here. Detox in hand.  Milk thistle, dandelion, avocado, cranberry juice, water - all good for damaged livers.  Mine will repair.  I got some good pills from the chemist that say they are specially for people who drink a lot of alcohol.  Oh well, no good for me then because I'm planning on not drinking any.

So many stupid flies - one of the hazards of the country.

Town swim

GROWNIGEL - groweling nope I don't think that's the right spelling .... I'll ask the dog.
WINORGGEL - Glowering.  That took me ages.  But I cannot let Mr Smith get one over on me.

Now what do we have planned for today?  Ah yes, work.  Mr Smith will be at work all day so I will be able to get on with something.  We were promised a vile day today but, guess what, it is gorgeous.

I had a lovely day with Claudia.  Roehampton looked different.  You observe things differently if you have been away from them for a while.  The regular patterns are less etched into your brain so see other bits such as previously unobserved roofs of buildings or doorways or facades.  Interesting.  The club itself seemed dull - all too schooly.  Nice lunch, beautiful gardens and it was so nice to spend time with the Lovely Claudia.

I had a bit of a panic on my High Speed Train journey to St Pancras when I suddenly remembered I had forgotten my swimsuit despite packing every other aid to swimming and self beautification.  Pulling the emergency cord and turning the train back seemed a bit tricky as it was going so fast.  I bought a perfectly adequate, if rather filmy, swimsuit at a sports shop at the station.  I think you need to be flat chested and super thin for such a garment.  My big fat self crammed into it - super stretch.

I joined the local sewing group.  Brilliant.  I loved it and will go again next week.  Less arduous that Monday's art class but all these things keep me out of the pub which can only be good.

And so to work.  At long last.

Tall, flat and vacant

Tall Paul didn't take my flat.  He cannot move house right now.  So it is empty.  I was just toying with what to do with it e.g, nice retreat for when I am down at the sea (walkable distance) like a rather expensive beach hut; or maybe an illicit love shack but for notable lack of illicit lover although the gardener seemed quite interested the other day but he is not sexy ... unlike the window cleaner who can rub me down with his shammy leathers whenever he's available; or a golf store for Mr Smith thus leaving our house golf stick free.  However, Sneaky Smith told the estate agent to sell it .... Whose flat? Hint ... Not his!

Capital plans

TENLEICLT what is it?  This is the daily word challenge in the newspaper and Mr Smith has won about five in a row, mainly because I cannot be arsed to do a ghastly anagram along with all the other labours of morning life such as ablutions, dog, kitchen tidy, cramming self into ill fitting clothes and his sodding breakfast.

INTELLECT - Thank goodness I sorted that out.  Now to get on with getting myself organised for my trip to London.  Only 30 mins on the train.  You would think I was going to North Scotland the fuss I am making.  Right.  I need swimming things as I am planning a swim at the mouldy golf club who will not let us resign until the end of the year.  So I may as well get my money's worth.  I am meeting the lovely Claudia there for lunch then we are going shopping.  Oh zippy whippy.  I do not want to look at curtains or wallpapers or light fittings or carpets.  I want to have a lovely day off.

I have put on rather a lot of weight since living here.  It's this heavenly lifestyle.  Must make it more boring immediately - Mr Smith is doing a grand job on that score.  Anyway, I am battling to get my sitting room  decorated then I can have my very own sofa with my very own books on the bookshelves and no bloody telly showing football.  I would ban his horrible desk too but it seems to have taken up residence there.

I love this house.  It is so beautiful.  We are so lucky.  And the weather has been lovely almost every day.

Country Life

"Life is like a penis.  Simple, relaxed and hanging free.  It's the women that make it hard."

 

 I don't see what is wrong with going to pub at 4.30pm and leaving at 11pm.  It seems fine to me.  Just because Pooface wants his tea means I have to leave my diet coke ... Well actually glass of vino ... to cook his bollocksy din dins at 8.30.   

It was a very good dinner amazingly... even if I was squiffy.  It was pasta with lobster ... Real lovely local lobby lobster and I even managed to haul it out of its shell and every thing. I don't think they realised how difficult getting those bits of meat out of their spindly little legs actually was.  I felt like a Cornish fisherman unblocking his hoover.

Well, another lovely day.  Hair is terrific.  All smooth and silky despite morning swim and full wash and blow dry.  Not a frizz in sight.  I now need to get it cut but am afraid as it might hurt.

We went to Ashford Retail Stupid Place after swimming.  Mr Smith picked me up at the spa and we sharpened our credit cards.  I bought total crap.  Two pairs of ill fitting shoes, a coat that makes my arse look even bigger than it is and a whiteboard. The only item I actually wanted was the whiteboard, for teaching my mad Hungarian friend/cleaner's kids English in the vain hope that it may be better than hers.  She has packed up my flat and marked all the boxes but I can't understand anything she has written on them.  "Broken things".  I think she means Fragile. Some of the things she has simply drawn but I have no idea what these strange pieces of nuclear submarine can be.  I think they may be knitting.  I will find out one day.

I spent much of the afternoon cleaning the barbecue.  A boring greasy job.  I made out it was far more arduous and greasier than it actually was - there was an audience.  Then I awarded myself a pub visit as a reward.

Apparently Paul MacKenna tells you to map out your day so you don't bollocks it up.  To be honest mine was probably always going to be big fat croissants, worthy swim, lunatic spending spree, lovely lunch, arduous task, lots of pub.  The only bits that weren't preconsidered were the dutiful marital sex and the lobster dinner.


Annabel

Big big storm

Thunderbolts and lightning very very frightening ..... At least our Mulberry Tree didn't get struck by lightning.  I think that happened sometime ago.  All the lights went out and I was a bit scared.  Mr Smith did not come to see if I was OK in bed but I went to ensure he had a torch - so kind.

I am gradually clearing out our seaside flat with the intention of letting it to a nice tenant.  I hope Tall Paul takes it.  He is a super nice golfing friend of Mr Smith and he is ...very tall.

I have been buying lights for our house.  Mr Smith chooses hideous things that make me want to weep.  I buy crazy antique pineapples and birds' nests.  Well, they're neither but they are that sort of thing.  I have also bought lovely antique wall lights and might buy some more when he isn't looking.

We have really discovered the antique shops of Hythe.  Yesterday we bought loads of junk including a tiny table and a very practical pair of bellows.  I actually went to Hythe to get some canvases for painting.  I just need a bit of application next.  Shall I start painting or clean the barbecue?

I had my hair straightened at vast expense.  It is the Brazilian Blowout where they put some stuff on your hair that stays there for four days then you wash it out and you should have sleek lovely hair that doesn't go frizzy - even in the rain.  We'll see.  Today is wash out day.  I have been walking around with dreadful lank dead straight hair.  To think that's what I wanted all my life.  So there should be a bit of spring back in it but no ghastly uncontrollable Brillo pad effort.

 I am going swimming at my posh spa this morning - well needed exercise as I am rather porky these days due to the delicious meals I keep producing.  It's the whole happy thing - happy house, happy kitchen, happy food.  I need to do some punishment - hard exercise and meagre regime and not
reward myself with the delights of Cadburys or the pub.

We are so very happy here.

Vroom vroom

Mr Smith got a new car.  Just like you might buy potatoes or carrots, he just went to the shop and bought a car.  It is a very smart car, black and shiny and absolutely useless for my purposes of filling with garden waste and bits of wood.  It has a very elegant interior.

We did pick up our oak beams and the Apprentice put one up as a shelf for cookery books.  It looks very smart.  I love our house.

Artisan of the day: Window cleaner.  No more bird poo ...hooray, until they do more.

I joined a lovely health club and went swimming ... Twice.

My baby boy comes back from China today.  He reports no loo paper in China and chopsticks are mighty tricky.

Heave ho

They dutifully heaved and I now have a lovely art room and a sewing room which is still a bit full of junk but a work in progress.  I suddenly thought turning all these empty rooms into bedrooms is pointless.  When do I need nine bedrooms?  So we now have kids rooms, three spare rooms, a studio room for me and a general ironing/sewing/box room.

And now to attend to artisan of the day.  Large plumber - probably takes at least 36 sugars in his tea.
Then we are off to the car funeral - so sad as we undertake removal of the waitrose bags and the ancient maps, Lego men from down the seats, all those little parking thingies and money.   Then it is a toss up between oak beams or lighting.  We need both pretty urgently.  My little car holds not much more than a croissant so beams will have to be delivered.  They are to make shelves various.

I am excited about starting work in my new art room.  Far too busy for that.

George was ere

Tree man came with his mate Stump Man.  They removed the absolute eyesore of a dead apple tree from the lawn.  It looks far better.  Mr Smith had walked the chap round the garden wanting to fell every sprig of greenery with me making big No No No gestures behind him.  We have kept it to a minimum with just three fellings and a mighty pile of logs.  Now to use my new log splitter.  It is monstrously heavy and we don't know how to assemble it.

Today I am going to organise the upstairs rooms of our house.  I am going to get Mr Smith and the Apprentice to heave around heavy furniture.  Then I will change my mind and make them put it all back again.  Well, I would so like a work room.  I would also like to unpack the odd box.  Yesterday I packed flat all the boxes piled high to the ceiling and Freecycled them.  It took me many an hour.  Neither Mr Smith nor the Apprentice were the least bit appreciative.  We now have another lovely room.  Something has gone a bit wrong because it has a single bed and a double mattress.

Mr Smith's car is dead.  Funeral tomorrow.  Wear black.

School run

We couldn't work out how to turn on the heating and we were miserably cold.  I fortuitously ran into Eddie the Evident in the high street and he came over to see our house.  He is a plumber (rtd) and simply showed us the thermostat that we had completely overlooked and suggested we turn it on whereupon the house was instantly far too warm.  We turned it all off.

Mr Smith is going to commute for the first time today. What with his Californian golf trip, followed by his Canadian holiday and his new house paternity leave, he hasn't been to London Town for over a month.  Having blown up his car I am reluctant to lend him mine so I will have to chauffeur him to and from Ashford International station.  If he gets the wrong platform he will end up in France.

I am getting a bit porky these days.  It's all these lovely meals in my lovely kitchen in my lovely new house.  Country cooking is all very well but I am fast turning into a country bumpkin.  Time to take stock and formulate a regime.  Also I am going to investigate swimming; not in the sea but a swimming pool.

Artisan of the day: Can't remember.  We had two yesterday - curtain lady and gardener.  Then there is the resident electrician - the Apprentice.  He is doing great things.  We can now see in the kitchen with the addition of a little spot light and a light in the cupboard.  I love it when things work.
There are several more mendymen lined up - cleaner, plumber, tree stump man, alarm man, chimney sweep and damp proofer.  Add car mender and hairdresser to the list and you have an idea of my week.

And now it's driving gloves on.

Guardian Angels

We have been so well looked after since we arrived in Kent.  We not only have Glen the Good but can now add Stephen the Saviour to our list of wonderful heroes.

 Our car broke down yesterday.  There were clouds of smoke billowing out of the back.  We limped to a jaguar garage where the car did a big poo right outside their office.  A lovely young man called Stephen assured us it could be fixed even though it is not a jaguar.  They are quite familiar with BMWs too.  He drove us home and we were mightily relieved.  In the meantime I have to drive Mr Smith everywhere in my car - not an arrangement I am entirely happy about but needs must.

Artisan of the day was Burglar Alarm man.  We felt it was all too expensive to protect our pants what with insurance on top.  We will shop around.  I understand from Glen the Good everyone just tells their neighbours they are away and beady eyes are cast.  I like the country.

Lobster and laundry

Glen the Good sent round two enormous lobsters about four times the size of any lobster I have ever seen.  They were cooked so all I had to do was gut and shell them.  Messy.  Sledge hammers were required.  We thermidored about half of one and the remaining meat will be salad and sarnies and bisque and pasta until we scream "No more lobster" ... Which is a shame because there is another one in the freezer.

A very thorough plumber put our plumbing through its paces and explained it all to us.  To make water appear you turn on the tap.  Oh!  Well there were hidden switches in cupboards and other mysteries. I got a bit bored listening to all this plumb speak so left The Apprentice son inspecting boiler parts.

Mr Smith and I had a 29th Wedding Anniversary stroll round Rye.  We failed to find a chest of drawers but did find a paint shop.  I painted up loads of bits of canvas in different colours so we can do our colour combos on walls throughout the house rather than trying to select from a teeny weeny little chart.  Somehow they got a bit mixed up with flying lobster juice so now they smell.

We seem to have Artisan of the Day and today it is Burglar Alarm man.  This is the first person we have got by ourselves as all others have been sent by Glen the Good.  He would probably be frightfully upset that we should even consider having an alarm with him right next door.  This is not London.  You really can leave your house unlocked all the time.

It's a lovely day so I must get my laundry on the line.  Clean sheets for all.

Just in case

I have booked myself a little Caribbean holiday for when we are in the height of builders/decorators and the winter has set in.  I will have a week of winter sun to see me through the dark days til Christmas.  I have a couple of paintings to get done by then.

My sparky boy is working hard on our house changing plugs and lights.  He is a gem.

Mr Smith has gone to Sainsburys.  You can walk easily but I suspect he took the car.  Maybe he bought lots of lovely things.  Odd, because he only had three things on his list none of which were the least bit heavy.  I suspect he diverted!  Oh jolly good, donuts for tea.

Plumber tomorrow, soft furnishings lady on Tuesday and chimney sweep in October, damp man in two weeks, guttering chappie to be found.  I love it here.  Everyone is so nice.  Mind you, you don't want to be in a hurry.

In and out

Well, we are back from Canada and safely installed into Mulberry House, lovely lovely Mulberry House.  It's mulberry pie for dinner tonight.  Both Mr Smith and I have a feeling of slight euphoria as we take stock of our fabulous new home.  No mortgage.  Oh it is so beautiful.

There are a few issues such as rising damp but Glen the Great, our hospitable pub landlord, has sent people round to fix things.  We have damp man, plumbing man, plumber's mate, chimney sweep, dishwasher removal man, gardener, cleaner, window cleaner and drains bloke all lined up.  Glen the Great is amazing - he woke us up this morning to tell us we could use his skip for all our cardboard boxes.  I took them all to the tip.  I wish I hadn't as they make great fire lighters.   I am also using Glen the Great's Internet.  Due to BT's stupidity we are not on line.  We also have the wrong telephone number.

I love living in Kent although I do still feel like I am on holiday in someone else's house.  A load of furniture arrived from Yorkshire yesterday so it doesn't even look like our house.  My new sofa will come next week.  I am desperate to make one pretty room that isn't beige and brown.  I find all this dark wooden furniture a bit depressing.  I want to rush out and buy a bright pink plastic chaise longue   or orange plastic chairs.... just to annoy Mr Smith.

I have sent the boys and Mr Smith to London to buy a house. Mulberry House is a big house but wow it's nice without them all.  I want my boys to move out.  They seem to fill the whole house with themselves and all their clobber.  I am running around tidying up after them all and doing their endless washing.

Wonderful wedding

The Big Fat Canadian Wedding was quite wonderful with lots of dancing.  Actually, rather odd dancing as there were performances by the bride's parents which seemed most unnecessary and rather   embarrassing.  On the good side the bride was unutterably beautiful and we all had a fabulous time.

Unfortunately this fabulous time just hasn't stopped and every hour of the day is filled with more partying and more food and more booze until I am so tired and so full I might die but not before I have crammed in another donut, waffle, pancake, peach pie or Danish swirl.

After four days I have jumped ship and left Mr Smith and all the other Smiths to visit my friend Jonesy in Kingston, Ontario.  We are having fun though I am horribly tired and she has a ghastly cough.  I persuaded her to stay in tonight as I cannot face another restaurant meal and I don't want to drink.  At last an alcohol free day; liver will rejoice!  We have had a lovely evening together not having to do anything.  Heaven.

My boys are in Toronto with their cousins.  I am sure they are having a lovely mother free day.  I have handed them over to their father and disclaimed all responsibility for their behaviour.  They have not let me down - Mr Smith has been suitably aggrieved by their awfulness in running up an enormous hotel bill, smoking dope at the wedding, leaving half their luggage in our car and being of slobby demeanour and rude to me. That's his boys!  Sometimes they are very nice.

Canada Oh Canada

We are now in Canada.  The past few days have been diabolical.  The move was ghastly.  Things didn't go as well as I woud have liked.  Mr Smith is useful sometimes but not when he is in California and I am trying to find out if we can move in with no idea who to call.  I didn't even know where to collect the keys. The lack of info was pretty shoddy really.  I was definitely stretched to the point of breaking but the tether seems endless.

The boys range from being super lovely helpful to being totally vile and idle.

Our house is gorgeous.  The move nearly killed me.  Lynda, our house sitter, is heaven sent.  The moment she arrived everything suddenly became a lot easier.  She is unpacking boxes and sorting stuff out as I write.

By some miracle I managed to find a pant, a sock and a wedding outfit and get packed and to the airport in good time.  When I got to the plane I was having yet another panic about the boys missing the flight and the bags being taken off containing Mr Smith's wedding outfit.  Just as they appeared so did a nice air hostess who moved me to Business Class.  Oh it was amazing.  The bits of the flight that weren't sponsored by Cadbury's were full of delicious things to eat and smell and play with.  It was SO good.  I slept for a long time on my lovely flat bed.  No smelly monsters - they were at the back of the plane next to the loos!

And now I am in Toronto trying to find Mr Smith who has become the invisible man.  The hotel have never heard of Mr Smith.  I rather wish I hadn't either right now.  I don't want to be here.  I don't want to go to his stupid niece's wedding.  I want to be in my new house in England.

Movin on up

Well, here it is .... At long last...The day I have waited so long to arrive.  All is packed.  I just have to shove my duvet into a teeny little bag and shrink my pillows and deal with a load of big things that were too difficult to pack such as the kids.

I did not sleep well. I woke at repeated intervals throughout the night.  At 3am I tried to book a limo from Toronto Airport. Not as bonkers as it sounds as I am actually going to Toronto.  Then I watched a really crappy tv prog then I counted boxes to get me to sleep.  Dawn is now rising over Roehampton and I realise this is the last time I will see the church spire from my bedroom window.  Ben was christened in that church.  Actually it is obliterated by a tree that must have grown a great deal this year as the other trees have been cut down.

I just got a scary message on my phone about reading the meters. Thank God they reminded me.
I must remember to get a Happy New Home card for the new people.  They kindly sent me one.
And now to Kent to live happily ever after.

What a mess

Oh dear, I still seem to have masses of clutter despite packing non stop all day.  Ben produced a lovely girlfriend and between them they packed up all the paintings.  Hooray.  Still twenty tons more crap to go.  Tomorrow will be non stop all day til the small hours then a few hours sleep before the removals vans arrive at the crack of dawn.  I am stupidly over tired and mt boys are pretty damned useless.  They have suddenly developed wondrous social lives having been right Billy no mates for months on end.

I am going to have a long soak in the bath and then pack up my bathroom.

Oh what a night

What a wonderful party.  We had about 60 people and when we had had enough of them it rained so they all went home or stayed for dinner.  It worked out really well.

Although I didn't drink I had a monster hangover.  How did that happen? Maybe just über tiredness.

Moooooving

I must pack the cow.  I must pack everything.  Packing is on hold for now as we have to prepare for our party.  I am excited.  A party.  Zipperdy do dah.  I must iron the bunting and buy a crisp.  I had my hair done in anticipation - streaks but I can't see any streaks.

My boys have not bought themselves a house so, much to our horror, they are coming to live with us.  The whole point was to move house and get rid of them.  I suppose they can have the top flat.  I was wondering what to do with it.

I am dreading our move.  Not because I don't want to leave here but because Mr Smith will be away and I want him to help.  He isn't actually all that helpful.  I wish he would deal with his stuff rather than leave it for me.  I wish he wasn't going to America.  I feel exhausted.  What I need is a nice party  to cheer me up!

Yorkshire pudding

We went to Yorkshire for the weekend to annoy my mother in law and steal her furniture.  Most successful.  We also acquired two elegant high backed wooden chairs from an antique shop and bought a carpet at auction.

I was catering prefect over the weekend and decided we would have healthy pud in the form of peaches and strawberries but then there was a request for meringues and cream with the strawberries on Saturday then crumble on Sunday.  So we had gorgeously fattening delicious puddings and I had four helpings of peach and strawberry crumble which was just gorgeous.  I took myself for an enormously long walk in the evening to try and combat my vast lunch.  Oh it was good.  But the calories!

And now boys and girls the great big pack will take place.  Actually, it can't really because we have two weeks yet before we leave and we are having a party next week.  I will finish my lame little change of address card and get it printed.  Then unless I want to hold a Quilting Bee at Terminal 5 I have to finish Lauren's wedding quilt.

Arty cardy

I was trying to paint a picture of Mulberry House to use as a change of address card but it is taking ages so I decided to make a little collage out of fabric.  The first hazard is all my fabrics and sewing kit are packed up somewhere amongst the mountain of boxes.   I used what I had lying around but it really isn't very good.  I want to find a few flowery fabrics to make the garden and mulberry tree.  I was hoping if I made it quite large when I photographed it there would be a fabulously detailed brilliant little picture but it hasn't quite worked like that.  Maybe I will go back to the painting.

Off to Yorkshire today to annoy my mother in law. We will shop in Barnsley and maybe look at some antiques in Rotherham on the way.  The reason for our visit is to see what furniture we can steal from mother in law.  We need a dining table and chairs and anything else we think she doesn't really need.

I want to restore our house to something a bit more 18th century.  It is a dreadful mish mash of modern horror with hideous light fittings, awful B&Q wallpapers, ghastly curtains and terrible finishes.  We need a plasterer and a carpenter; the electrician we can provide.  It is handy having a son with a skill; maybe I should have had more.

Panic over

Oh thank you God for best friends and worst enemies.

Marvellous Marian rang because her telephone wasn't working and she needed to try to her new one so picked me to call. I told her of my predicament trying to find a house sitter and she came up with a name.  My worst enemy at college, Lynda B.  I didn't dislike Lynda B but we just came from very different backgrounds.  In fact I was bowled over by her intelligence despite lack of education.  She had travelled around the world as a stowaway, done a building course, got pregnant, raised a son on her own, tried to form reconciliation with her dreadful drunk mother and found God.  She is actually very nice, very reliable and sensible and comes at this from the right angle.  She wants a seaside holiday and I want a house sitter.  Perfect.  I couldn't leave my house in more capable hands.

And now I can sleep.

Pop Up House

The John Soane Museum has to be my favourite museum in London.  It is so lovely in every respect.  Whole walls open to reveal other rooms and the Rake's Progress lives behind the Election which folds back like a giant tryptych but better. It is most Alice and quite delicious.  The Rake wants to make my new house like this with many a pretend bookcase revealing secret rooms.  I like it as it is.

Final demands

The house sitter demanded train fares for the whole of Britain, food allowance, a bicycle, tv in her room and £250 a week. I just ignored her. Then I told her to go poke it.  I don't think she sounds a bit nice.  I want this, I want that.  No way Jose.  So it looks as though all our things are going to be stolen while we pay a small fortune for doggie to reside at kennels.  Today, I will try to get onto the agency.

And now, dear reader, I have got our house into an almighty muddle.  Mr Smith is being difficult and refusing to pack so much as a sock and the digusting smell of cardboard boxes is driving me bananas.
I am doing quite well but it is still all such a mess. I am tempted to fill all the shelves and cupboards again.

My weight is dropping.  But then I eat enough to keep a fly alive so that's hardly surprising.  We have a party in two weeks.  Maybe I could be thin for it?  A bit ambitious I know; ok then just a bit less fat.  My very skinniest friend is coming.   She is even skinnier than the Lovely Claudia.  I call her Callista.

Today culture is planned for Smiths.  We are going to the John Soane Museum at Lincolns Inn to look at the Hogarths.  I will take the rake with me.  I wonder if Mr Smith might like to join us. Oh no, he is going for his curry club lunch.  Open all the windows.

Flying carpet

We bought a carpet for our new house.  It is lovely.  We also bought a sofa.  It is absolutely gorgeous - duck egg blue and very very squidgy.  Oh happy me.  8 weeks til delivery.  This is my sofa for my room with my things and my library and my dog....not on my new sofa.

I am having extreme difficulty finding a house sitter.  The one I am now in negotiation with charges enormous money and wants train fares, food allowance and a bicycle.  Rather demanding! I don't mind paying her train fare from her house to mine but I am not paying for her to travel from her present job to her house then from there to me. That is asking too much.  I think I am going to turn her down.

I am having a weekend of no packing but I am not enjoying it because 1. We have stupid cardboard boxes everywhere but they are all the wrong size and 2. Mr Smith is here with a clipboard.  Go away.

Housey housey

Mr Smith is taking me shopping.  Don't get excited, it will be for a vegetable and some bog paper.  We are not allowed any new things.  We'll see about that as there is a carpet shop I am particularly keen on.  We will need carpets for our boards.

I am still looking for a house sitter whilst we frolic around Canada for a week.  The big fat Canadian wedding is the main feature.  I cannot tell you how much I do not want to go.  I want to move into my lovely new house and enjoy it.  Anyway, in the meantime I have to sift through the good, bad and homeless.  I am being a bit racist because I think a black person might have a hard time in our seaside town.  I don't want to inflict that on anyone.

Now to read tales of woe to Mr Smith about awful house sitters who help themselves to the booze and invite all their mates round.  There must be heaps.

Box city

Help, I am drowning in cardboard boxes and I don't like their nasty cardboardy smell.  We have packed some books and a few things from the spare room - result is 30 boxes of crap all piled to the ceiling in the spare room and another 6 under the table in the playroom and another 5 in the sittingroom.  No, I cannot live like this for a whole month.  I was so over zealous in my start. All boxes must go to the spare room and nestle there in a happy fashion.  Then I can breathe.

We are having a party.  Do come.  It is simply so I can stop feeling guilty about not letting Mrs Nosey into my house .... Ever.  She can come and ask as many nosey questions as she wants such as how much did we sell for and how much did our new house cost.  I will answer all such enquiries with complete dishonesty.  I am sure there are several Mrs Noseys but Mrs P serves our end of the street.  Mr Smith keeps talking to her and even showed her a picture of our new house .... with no price.

Perhaps when I get towards the end I will be pleased I made an early start.  Three less books to pack.

Exchange & Mart

We have exchanged on both houses.  Weyhey, we are moving in a month.
A bit scarey.  Off to our posh house in the country.  I am SO excited.

Like a mad squirrel I am collecting packaging.  I have sent off for lots of boxes and wrapping material.  Such fun.  I am bursting to make a start.  I have a plan which involves a central hub of operations where we store all our packed boxes and a satellite for all our unpacked boxes.  Giant sellotape and pens will be our weapons.  Shall I get a white board so we can mark our planning strategies?  We will need coloured pens.

Mr Smith makes annoying suggestions.  It's ok he won't be here on removals day as I constantly remind him.  He will be golfing in America.  Thank you God.  Honestly, that is just the best ammo ever.  He does exactly as I tell him otherwise I remind him of his hideous selfishness. Frequently.

What's the time?

I lost my watch.  Mr Smith helped me look for it mumbling away about irresponsibility with expensive possessions etc.  Who me?  The person who gardens in Jimmy Choos and drives her Mercedes like a bumper car.  No joy.  I was in Bond Street with 30 grand of loveliness on my wrist, as I was trying on expensive watches, when I suddenly remembered I had put it in my sock drawer before I went to Paris.  I beetled home.  There it was.  So happy.  £30,000 less spent.  Mr Smith should be ecstatic ....but it was SO beautiful.

Anyway, back on planet Earth where we still haven't bought a house, my cardboard boxes arrived.  My yearning to start packing them up has dwindled.  I will start next week.  In the meantime I will send off for more kit.  Oh how I love packing material - tissue and bubble wrap, carboard, paper and best of all ... pallet wrap which is giant cling film.  It packs everything.  

Box Clever

I am awaiting the arrival of my packing boxes.  Where are they?  I want to start packing.  Really a lot.

I went to the hairdressers and now have lovely hair.  At the bus stop, whilst I was having a particularly hair flicky moment, I was stopped by someone handing out half price hairdressing leaflets.  Can't you see I have just been?  Did the hairdresser make that much of a botch up?  I think not.

I am now suspicious that Mr Smith and the dog have sunbathed all afternoon and failed to answer the door to the boxman.  Have they no idea how urgent my box need is? Well, I don't really need them until mid August but I am getting all excited about moving now.  The removals man who came this morning to give us an estimate for our big move was so nice and made me feel most nomadic.  Pack up tents and animals, time to move on.

I am bursting to organise things like Sky and telephone and Internet and all that jazz but we still have not exchanged on our purchase.  Actually I have asked Mr Smith to do these things .... He probably won't.  I have asked Mr Smith to pack his wine.  He showed the man a few mouldy cardboard boxes that looked like they were about to disintegrate at any moment.  I think they might benefit from a repack.  He doesn't.  I despair.  I am actually looking forward to the old git going off to America to play golf leaving me to move house on my own.  Do you know something .... I would never do that ... Ever.

Blighty

I am trying to solve problems.  Billions of them.  With no help.  Sometimes I get shouted at.  I am seeing removals man on Wednesday.  Then I may have a clearer picture of the whole procedure.  Mr Smith at one end of the grand piano and me at the other.  No, we don't own a piano.

Mr Smith has done what he always does in a crisis .... He's gone to golf.

I Love Paris

Oh Paris is SO lovely.  It is very hot but the galleries are cool and air conditioned and full of beautiful paintings and we are having a wonderful time.

We are metroxperts and can probably tell you which metro line and where to change trains wherever you want to go.

So far we have been to .... The Louvre, the Place de Concord, L'Orangerie, Decoratif Arts, Champs Élysées, the Arc de Triomphe, Musee D'Orsay, les Jardins de Luxembourg and lots of cafes and ice cream shops.  Tomorrow I want to go shopping because we are getting just too cultured and my feet are tired.

Mr Smith is at war with Paris - something to do with opening times and closed days.  Some places close     on Monday and some on Tuesday and you never know which.  He got into a bit of a paddy in Decorative Arts which wasn't helped by me dragging him round an exhibition of corsets.  It was very good.

Tomorrow will be less galleries, more shops.

Gay Paree

Monsieur Smith and I are having a break from all this house buying and are going to Paris on Eurostar for a few days.  Firstly we are going to Kent for the weekend then off to France from Ashford on Monday.  I must get some Euros.  Maybe Monsieur Smith can do that.  I think I will need lots.

We have nearly exchanged on London.  Weeheee.  What I really want is to exchange on Kent then I can buy lots of things for my new house whilst I am in Paris.

Doctor today to sort out crappy headaches and cough.  Bet he doesn't.  However, with T's excellent diagnosis by email, I now know what's wrong.  It is my neck apparently.  She may be right because I have been trying a few relaxy stretchy exercises and it seems to have melted away my headache.  I get all tight at night as I worry about moving house, then Ben, then more moving, then Mr Smith, then money, then the dog, then me.  It all goes round and round until I hurt.

Owch

I am plagued with awful headaches that make me want to scream.  I can't see a doctor til Thursday. This is getting serious.  Mr Smith is getting cross.  Sympathy never was his strongest characteristic.

Internet Disasters

I have a warning that an Internet delivery is imminent,  I am waiting with disappointment in place ready.  

My recent on line purchases:-

Hair style things - Japanese, no instructions, hopeless.

Bed - awful in a hundred ways - might take to the tip.

Table - damaged

Linen - thin and scratchy

Chair - small and uncomfortable

Hairbrush - big but weedy

Sweets - revolting

Frame - enormous and wrong in so many ways

Cotton thread - fine. One good item.  

I must stop shopping on line.

I must

I will

But I must just have another look on ebay.

Bon marchay

Watching Wimbledon doesn't really count as PE does it?  I am so lazy but I have to wait in for dreadful Internet buys.  The chair was quite ugly and stupidly small and uncomfortable and had Impulse Buy written all over it.  This has to stop.  My hairbrush never came; my hair is a mess.  An enormous parcel arrived yesterday containing a frame.  I suspect I got the measurements wrong.  I haven't dared to open it.  The linen was hideous and awful quality.  Thank heavens I haven't bought entire sets for all nine bedrooms in a house I don't yet own.  Mr Smith has put a ban on me buying any more stuff for our new house until we have exchanged contracts.

Our forthcoming holiday in Paris looks slightly flawed.  I bid for three nights in a Parisian hotel whilst drunk at a charity auction.  I SO wished I hadn't.  The place looks a flea pit in a particularly grim bit of town miles away from the centre.  I have booked us one night in a decent hotel.  I am thinking of maybe doing two.  I don't think we are going to like it very much.

I am working on a very beautiful patchwork quilt with highly dodgy instructions.  I am giving it to Mr Smith's niece as a wedding present.... In small bits at this rate.  This doesn't exclude Mr Smith from buying her a present himself - he is looking through the list for something that costs under $10.

And now I am off to Camden to see about a market research project that is so beyond me I could weep.  It is big money so I decided the only way to do this was to go and irritate them in person.  I find it all too confusing on line.  Anyway, I want to walk through Regents Park and have a bit of a leg stretch - too sofa bound these tennis days.

I am giving knitting club a miss as they have some awful yarn bombing project planned.  I wouldn't mind if it was a properly planned beautiful installation but a load of rubbishy bits of knitting strewn about the place is truly not for me, or Maurice, or Susie, or Christine.  Three people will be there on their own.  The rumble of our stampede in the opposite direction will be the only sound to break our silent protest. We felt we were being made to do something we didn't want to.  Is it actually legal - possibly not?  Shall I tip off planning? With any luck someone else will.

Retail inlet

My mad impulsive internet purchases keep arriving.  They are all very large.  I am having difficulty hiding them from Mr Smith.  I got a huge table because it was cheap on eBay and put it together .... upside down.  It has a large gouge out of one corner which it will now have forever. I am so cross.  I am awaiting delivery of an ugly chair that in a hip moment I thought was retro. The new washing machine looks a bit rubbish.  I can't plumb it in or do the electrics.  It will sit in the middle of the kitchen until all our clothes smell or I get the Apprentice back from France.  Mr Smith loves laundry.  I will find a laundrette for my clothes and enjoy having a kitchen island.

The next things to be delivered are a big hairbrush, a ham stand and some linen that I don't really want and some mad snazzy square pillowcases in no known size.  And Mr Smith, back from golf.

France Vacance

Monsieur Et Madam Smith are going to Pareee to veezeet ze sights.  So exciting.  Can't remember when but sometime next month to take our minds off this mad house buying business.  Then when we get back it can start all over again.

Mrs Smith's top things to do in Paris

1.  Buy a guide...... Then we'll work it out from there.

Vision of loveliness

Mr Smith is still in France golfing.  It is raining here so it probably is there too (teehee).  The sheets are on the line .. Groan.  This housework thing doesn't suit me at all.  I wanted to decontaminate the place for his return.  Can't think why as he never notices.

Yesterday I was Princess Perfect.  I cleaned and preened, took myself to the hairdressers, walked, swam, finished the crossword and detoxed myself.  I then decided to have a night away.  I packed up a few things and set off ... to the spare room.  It is lovely in there and I slept like a bit of dead tree.  I had great ideas for my sitting room at new house.  I will use the lovely pale blue and pink kelim from the spare room with a big pale blue sofa, pink and beige cushions and lots of arty books.  Curtains to be decided.  Mmmm need measurements.  Need house.

And now my last day of freedom before my master returns.  I will tumble dry things and do messy sewing.

Stuff

I am supposed to be looking for a house for the boys as we got outbid on the previous one.  Why should I?  I am not well, my chest hurts and I do not want to look at hovels without them.  Because if I don't they will come to live with us in Kent.  The whole point of moving is to get shot of them.  Ok then Right Move it is.

Found beautiful sofas in Putney.  I just need a house then I can buy lovely things to put in it.  In the meantime Mr Smith is very keen on me having his brother's old stuff. Ok I will consider the dining table but not his sofa.  I want my own.  Call me picky.  I don't want any of his mother's horrible brown furniture either.  Just so you know.  I'm a House & Garden girl. Actually, can't afford anything in H&G ... at all.  Perhaps I will look in Argos catalogue.

I think it's time for some Internet purchases.  That cheers me up considerably.

Hack hack

Mr Smith went away to the sea without me where he had a very blustery time.  I stayed behind and tried to figure out some very complicated instructions for a patchwork quilt.  V tricky.  I also developed my cough into something truly irritating.  It hurts.

Walked a hundred miles today as was trying to show off to WLR friend.  Now I ache and the cough hacks on; it is just mildly annoying.

I might die.  There again I have a new house to buy, and some parking vouchers to get tomorrow.  So maybe I will postpone my end.  It's just this damned cough.  Either it or Mr Smith might kill me; I do hope not.

Health check

I got so cold at the Opera and I had a funny turn in the second half when Ithought I might faint.  I didn't but I felt very sick.  I got better on the way home but I was amazed I managed to survive to the end.  Anyway, I now have a cold coming with a bit fat chesty thing making me feel ill.  Mr Smith is cleaning his gun.  They shoot horses, he says.

I took the boys to look at the house in Crystal Palace that I thought might be suitable.  Eventually after much tapping of things in a silly way they decided it would do, price permitting.

We have a surveyor coming to survey every inch of our cracked and leaking hovel.  I suppose as long as he doesn't write "Do not buy this property under any circumstances" it will be ok.  I am very worried about the little damp patch and that bit in the kitchen and the non working pump in the top bathroom and the shower door that is falling off and two disgusting boys lolling about with hangovers.  I remember the survey carried out on the very first house I lived in as a child.  My mother was very anxious and I was ill in bed with something like measles.  I remember the man tapping the wall above my bed and thinking he can't be serious.  That didn't seem much of a survey to me.

In the meantime the survey has been carried out on our house to be.  Riddled with worm, beetle and dry rot?  Apparently not.  Oh good.  It's old and looks as though it might.

Now, off to die.  I do not feel very well at all.

Sticky opera

Our house is to be surveyed on Friday.  How terrifying.  I suppose I had better clean it up.

Off to the opera today somewhere miles away in the depths of Hampshire. I hate opera but momentarily forgot and agreed to accompany Sensible Alison as her husband has gone to Iceland.  We are having dins in the interval.  It is so cold I hope it is a warming stew or something.  I am trying to stay off the booze so I hope bottles of wine have not been preordered or I will snore through the second half.

I am trying to fabricate a birthday cake for the Apprentice who will be 27 on Friday.  A very chocolatey kitchen and many crumbs is the story so far.  I will manage it somehow.  Off to the cake dec shop - found a new one.  Well, as long as I manage to scrape it all off before opera hour all will be well.

What a mess

Yesterday I made a wonderful crocheted circular rug.  Mr Smith says it looks like a squashed Mexican.  It does a bit.

It is cold.  It is June.  Ergo no heating and anyway we just had a bill ....arghhhhhhh!   I have donned a jersey and am wearing a knitted boa that I just finished.  Is there no end to my talents?  The boa is quite the thing which makes up for the awfulness of the rug.

I am SO excited by the thought of going to live in the country.  I will make rugs by the shed load.  I might even get quite good at it after a while.

I have just arranged a fun day out on Wednesday in Chichester with Designer Susan.  Then down to the Witterings to deliver terrible rugs followed by Portsmouth to collect the Apprentice (older son).  Tomorrow I am going to the Opera with Sensible Alison.  lalalalala

And now to make a house birthday cake for the Apprentice.  The top got a bit burnt and rose up with a big crack in it, then it fell apart when I tried to make it house shaped.  I will persist. I need more kit and a great deal of chocolate icing and eighty five thousand smarties.  He is 27.

Shopping with your mother

I took my youngest, the Best Boy, to the seaside as he was between films so could be dragged kicking and screaming down to Kent for some sea air.  He stayed in and watched telly.  Well, he did walk a tiny bit and he came to Dungeness with me for a spooky nuclear drink at the pub followed by fish dinner.

This morning I took him shopping at the wondrous Ashford Retail Outlet.  I somehow ended up buying him a load of boring shirts and pants and a top ...

"Well, what do you say to your generous mum?"
"I need a shirt".
I hate him.  Well, no I don't.  I love the little poo but I so wish he could be a little less oafish.  He just wishes I would curl up and die.  This is despite the fact that I am buying him and his brother a house.

I really need those boys out of my life for a bit.

Finished

A day of accomplishment.  I finished Donna's horrible hula hoop weaving and my very odd knitted boa which is rather lovely in its own way.  So two projects out of the way.

My big boy, the Apprentice, is coming home next week.  He is in France working on a maison.

We have a completion date on the sale of this house at the end of August.  Yippeee.  Oh no, we will be away.  Oh well, I will sort something out.  Somehow it will be easier without Mr Smith and his clipboard.  

Property matters

Found the boys a sound proofed smell proofed house in Crystal Palace.  Well it isn't actually sound proofed but it is far enough away for me to not hear or smell them.  "It doesn't have a swimming pool."  No you are right it doesn't.  It is perfect so shut up and enjoy.

Our offer has been accepted on the lovely beautiful exquisite and very large Mulberry House.  We have managed to squeeze the fridge and cooker out of them too.  Clever us.

And now folks we have five properties to worry about if you count Worthing which is due to exchange this week and the seaside flat we have to let.

I have a dream

I thought I was doing well at offloading the horrible offspring. I was going to find them a house to share in somewhere like Crystal Palace.  In fact I am house hunting today.  I woud rather be sitting in my garden reading House and Garden, House Beautiful and Elle Decoration (new house you know) but being a dutiful mother I have arranged for viewings in a road where neither I nor my car feel particularly comfortable.

I spoke to the Apprentice, my older son who is currently in France performing apprentice electrical skills, and he tells me of his life vision.  He wants to do up houses and sell them on with a quick turn around.  He does not want to look after his brother.  Well I understand that.  He does not want to have all his money tied up in one property.  He really still wants to bum off his parents.  So after all my efforts it looks as though they will be living either with us or in our flat for ever after.  Groan. They won't want to live in Kent so it won't last long.

My dream life doesn't involve them.

Dungeons and dragons

Now I am starting to panic ... Fiercely.  Mr Smith put in an offer for our dream house and it was rejected.  Not enough money not because we smell.  And now the agent is out so we can't up our offer.
Oh dear oh dear.  If someone else buys it I will be undone.  Actually, what a relief.  Who wants a nine bedroom house in shit town anyway?  Far too big.

Mr Smith has gone to do battle with the meaniepants company he used to work for in order to get the money they owe him.  They are so stupid.  It is now 18 months or more since he left and they owe him a shedload of dosh that they just haven't bothered to pay.  Legal action time. I sent him off with polished armour and a look of invincibility about him.  Slay them Smithy.

And now I thought I would paint a lovely balloony picture but it ain't easy when you are all nervous and worried.  I will have a nice cup of tea and some heroin.  Ok maybe hold the heroin.  I will have some chocolate.

Dancing tonight.  Jingle jangle.

A place by any other name

Yes, I was right - lovely house is lovely and we are going to buy it and live happily ever after.

Had a ghastly journey back to London as M26 was closed and M25 was a lorry park so I M20ed all the way through Lewisham.  Vile.  Very short tempered ever since.

The dear Best Boy is reluctantly looking at affordable property on line.  He prefers the £800,000 house he found.  Ahem, I really had something along the lines of a £300,000 in grotty condition house in mind.  We differ.  I call Tooting lots of different names such as Lower Wandsworth, Outer Wimbledon, Earlsfield, Mitcham .... but not Tooting.  He still refuses to look at them.  He's so snooty.  In my day affordable meant anything south of the river or north of the park.  Now you are lucky if you can find anything with a London postcode for under a grillion.  Oh well, sorry dearest son you will not be living in Belgravia.  Anyway, your brother will sort you out when he returns from foreign parts.

Phrase of the day: Abstract vegetables.  I might write a book called Abstract Vegetables.

Five a day

Things that have gone wrong today ... And it's not yet 8am.
1. I have failed to go swimming - all that effort and wet hair etc. just can't face it. And I've got hairy underarms but need new razors.
2. I have finished my rag rug but it's circular.  Any other shape would be more useful - well maybe not star.
3. Turkish Delight R Us have failed to show up with their shipment.  I am getting desperate.
4.  Maybe my headache is from a gum infection.  I am doing studious between the teeth cleanings hoping for a miracle as I spit in 5 different shades of red.
5. My feet smell.

That's enough awful things for now.

I am going to meet Mr Smith after his golfing du jour at our favourite house in Kent with a view to buying it.  So exciting ... The house, not Mr Smith.  The dog looks excited; he is packing up all his belongings.  I have explained it takes 12 weeks to buy a house so he can go slowly.  We have yet to make an offer.  I have arranged to see another house just so we can see a comparison and be all grown up and not put in an offer too hastily.  I have forgotten which one, where it is and what time.  Mr Smith will be cross.

Rag bag

Planted the beans and learnt how to make a smelly rug out of old socks - looked quite good actually.
My mission - to learn how to make a Swedish toothbrush rug.  Not as odd as it sounds.  You use an old wooden toothbrush handle to bind it together.  Now where can I find an antique wooden toothbrush?

Crocheted a rug out of bits I had stashed away.  It needed to be bigger.  Need more bits.  The whole point of this was to use up some of the scraps I have lying around not bringing in any more ghastly bits.


Going house hunting tomorrow - for real this time.  So exciting. I am thinking about packing up this house ... A daunting task.  I am sure Mr Smith will be no help.  Oh well, I will just have to pack him up too.

Home spun

I tried to get Donna's 'woven on a hula hoop' rug finished but ran out of t-shirts.  I cut up some of my clothes but still didn't have enough.  I then went to visit the lady in the Charity shop; the mean one who makes me pay over the odds despite my amazing donations.  She will have some for me on Friday.  I have now gone off the whole thing.

I tried to crochet a rug.  I need a bigger hook.  I had a practice with a small piece but it wouldn't go flat.  I have now scoured the Internet and used less stitches and learnt all sorts of useless things including how to turn your socks into smelly rag rugs!

Suddenly remembered to concoct a stew so I don't get found out for lounging about all day doing nothing productive.  Dug up leaks from garden - there's nothing quite like successful own veg.  Will now plant runner beans.

I went to knitting group but it all went horribly wrong.  I finished a wonky scarf that I hate and lent some books to Mad Maurice which I will probably never see again.  I failed to get a big crochet hook for the rag rug and I didn't manage to get home early but I gave a good demo of belly dancing and   learnt how to knit a frilly boa.  Such fun!

Oh, we sold our house.  Well, that means we are under offer for now.  Happy Mr Smith.  Rather worried Mrs Smith - shall I bother with the beans?

Jingle jangle

Completely contorted today as there was a new teacher at belly dancing who did it a bit differently and I dislocated all sorts of new parts. However, I jingled nicely in my Istanbul Grand Bazaar jingly belt.  Tinkle tinkle.

Trying to keep to the daily prescribed number of calories.  Hopeless.  It seems just about enough food to sustain an anorexic fly.  I will persevere.

Mr Smith has sold our hovel.... I think. Ooooh so exciting.  Now we can buy a new one. House hunting on Saturday.  Yippee.

I am trying to sort out Donna's mat woven on a hulahoop.  It is a disaster.  Seemed such a good idea but, seriously folks, don't try this at home.

Constantinople is a very long word ....

I love Istanbul. Lovely shops, amazing mosques, an easy transport system and a grand bazaar.  What more could a fat tourist like me want?  Perhaps better food but it was OK.  Things I bought: A beautiful towel, a piece of ikat to make a cushion or two, a couple of jingly belly dancing belts and a great deal of Turkish delight.  Wish I had bought more.

My photos say it all.  I had such a lovely time and long to go back.

Up up and away

Ballooning is the most beautiful sensation in the world.  I mean travelling in a hot air balloon not swelling up enormously from overeating which does seem to be a side effect of my holidaying and isn't a lovely sensation at all.  The weightlessness of the air makes it very glidy and you feel like a feather gently floating upwards.  It was quite one of the loveliest things I have ever done.

Cappadocia is so odd.  It really is fairyland with jutting fingers of rock sticking upwards with tiny doorways and windows carved out of the cave walls for troglodyte living.

Sightseeing and shopping today.  Oh I do like a bit of tat.

Terrific Turkey

Turkey is absolutely lovely. It is spotlessly clean and stuffed full of a billion shops all wanting to sell you a grillion bits of tat and a blue eye.

I will not visit a hamman (Turkish bath) or buy a stupid carpet.
I will have a ride in a balloon and marvel at the weirdness of Cappadocia.
I will buy bellydancing kit.... for Mr Smith.
I will buy Turkish delight and chew it til my jaws ache.

Being an exceptionally busy little holiday maker I have climbed a castle and swam in a very cold pool, been shopping and explored the town.  So far I have bought nothing .... not even a bit of tat that looks like the netting the tangerines come in - yet.  I have eaten far too much and feel ridiculously full all the time.  I will have to make some better menu selections though so far we haven't actually had any choice, we have just been inundated with dish after dish of touristy fare.  Good fish.  Many veg.

I gave T a challenge.  She had to buy something for 1 Turkish lire (about 33p) in the grockle shops.  She did it - a little purse.

The hotel we are staying in is very much a family affair.  A lovely man and his little round wife with mild to medium b.o. run this marvellous b&b that reminds me of a Swiss chalet inside - very woody.  They looked at my paintings on line and offered me a free 10 days in June when they have their residential art course. Looking at the hideous paintings that adorn every wall the standard does not seem too highly competitive.  

The poo chart looks unblemished by achievement so far.  Mr Smith will be interested.

Happy holidays

Having just had a totally amazing weekend in Sussex followed by a couple of great days in Kent by the sea I am now off to Turkey.  It is positively around the world in 80 days with Mrs Smith.  I am Passepastouting to T, my fat friend.  Actually she is arranging all the everything and I am just coming along for the ride, a spot of shopping in Istanbul and a balloon trip across the moonscape of Cappadocia.

I want to draw and paint in Turkey but T has a rather packed itinerary planned for us so I have packed my walking boots and less paints.  I am worried that we might get a bit over tired.  Oh well, I can just plan the next holiday to recover from this one.

So goodbye rainy Britain and hello sunny Turkey.  (I have packed a mac just in case.)

Old me back

It's ok I have reverted to the old me.  I decided to perform a wardrobe clearance with the intention of taking my old clothes to M&S and getting a fiver from JoannaLumley, but I couldn't be arsed to go there so I took them to my local chas shop where I got a free pair of knitting needles.

I was going to perform in front of an exercise DVD but instead I tried out domino knitting.  A disaster. But at least I had a bash.  I sent off for a book in the hope that it might get better.

I walked to the butcher in the drenching rain - it was nice when I set off.

I gardened.  Sweet peas in two sites and a mass grave for beans.  Tick.
Cleaned kitchen then messed it all up again.
Last sweet peas, a dinner party and David Bowie today.  David Bowie is not coming to dinner; it's  Unpresuming Ed and Sensible Alison and lots of vino.

Actually, will have to watch the old vino as I am off to say with mates in Sussex for the weekend.  back to the Witterings .... So exciting.  Old stomping ground here I come.  I miss it.

The New Me

I don't know if I like the new me that much.  I don't drink and I exercise non stop.  Of course it is all proper exercise sessions such a 10k step walk or a class or a swim which means the dog is unwalked and the garden undug.  Today I will will make exercise more home orientated with an emphasis on bean planting even though it's raining.  Actually, I have a cunning plan, Baldrick, to torture my sweet peas into growing.  I am going to give them new locations, previously untried, because they have a habit of either being totally weedy or not growing at all.

The exercise thing would be fine if I lost weight but not an ounce has been shed since I have taken up  all this mad walking and I am beginning to get a bit peed off.  My mood is not improved by noticing that Mr Smith failed to bring the washing in despite a prompt last night and the weather looks inclement.  I was out pursuing the body beautiful - belly dancing class.  I was so depressed at the sight of my bingo wings I almost signed up for flying lessons.

The hamster, poor younger son who has had his wisdom teeth out, was going to go to the seaside to recover but now the weather has changed so perhaps he and his rather uncharming new girlfriend won't go after all.  Oh good.  She isn't very nice and I don't really want them to go to my beautiful flat as though it is a free hotel.  I am becoming selfish with my possessions but then they are mine and not his.  I feel rather the same about Mr Smith who is having his golfing cronies round.  Mmmm we'll see.

I have been shopping - shoe shopping.  I have lovely sandals for my forthcoming trip to Turkey.  Mr Smith asks if I am joining the Roman army.  They do look a bit gladiatorial actually.  They were very comfortable and I walked a million miles in them over the weekend but yesterday they started hurting.  I bought some special cushioning stuff in the chemist but it was actually just the nasty sharp label.  They are comfy again.  I also treated the top half to a new bra.  Quite lovely and very stripey which shows through all my clothes.

Today I will buy matching knickers.

Weekend japes

Saturday night was golf club dinner.  So dreary.  Mr Smith, you owe me big time. I sat next to a frightful little man who bored the pants off me.  His girlfriend was obviously having an affair with the man sitting next to her whose wife didn't look too chuffed.  Oh pass the mashing niblicks.  I was not entirely sober by the end of the evening.

On Sunday with a slight hangover I went for a walk beside a canal from Kent to Sussex.  It looked fine on the map with a nice public footpath but in reality it was all nettles and thistles and tall grass with a tiny track through it where one spindly man and his narrow dog had once walked.  I needed a scythe.  I ached by the time I got to Rye.  It was a long walk.  I was very grateful of the welcoming tea shop at 4 by which time they had run out of scones so no cream tea for me.  I had a rather hard piece of cake.  I bought a big clock from a junk shop to cheer myself up and waited for Mr Smith to collect me.

Yesterday I took my baby boy shopping as he is having his wisdom teeth out today and will need soft food and cosseting for a few days.  I came home and ate almost all the shopping.  Oh dear.  I feel very fat .... But secretly happy and full.  I am pissed off that the dentist thinks it's ok to do this operation in the chair.  I think he should be in hospital with proper nursing.  Florence here is not really up to the task.  I wonder if I should wear a uniform?  Mr Smith said he could get me one in a uniform suppliers called Ann Summers.  I think I will be ok without.

I don't think I will make it to belly dancing tonight with small Smith's teeth, or lack of, and Mr Smith's dinner to cook and the plumber dropping by and my life to live.  Oh well, I see it as something else at which I will be rubbish.  My arms are too fat.  I shall make scones.

Geeky freaky

I was all excited about knitting but when I got there I was really tired so just chatted to Mad Maurice who has worn the same sweater since I first met him in 1986.  He wears shorts the year round. They are too short and look creepy.  Actually Maurice looks creepy.  He is very tall and very odd but a kindly soul with a penchant for knitting and all things crafty.  I met him again this morning at Wandsworth Museum for tea and cake.  He was in the same shorts and sweater.

We had two viewings today. I was just about to hoover when I was surprised by the first one.  Oh well, the dog was charming and showed them round whilst I shoved a pair of tights in the knives drawer and a load of tea towels in the oven.  Mustn't forget.

I have such a vile headache.  Mr Smith gives me stress.  I don't want to go to his horrid boring golf dinners and talk to old people I hate..... But I do.  I have to go to one on Saturday.  He will owe me big time.

And now with this awful throbbing headache I have to clear out a kitchen cupboard and smash all the surplus dishes.

Trudging through life

Bellydancing was oh so jingly jangly.  The teacher was like a bendy pencil.  Quite lovely.  There was this dreadful fat woman with awful bingo wings who looked a bit like my mother.  I could see her in the mirror but when I turned round I couldn't see her in the class.  Odd.

I walked.  Oh how I walked.  Lovely walking.  I like it but it might be wearing my knees out.

The Apprentice son is off to France today.  I hope not forever.  I will miss him but there again I can clear up his pigsty of a bedroom and cook for one less.

Mr Smith is being marginally more reasonable though still a right contrary Mary.  You pay, here's my credit card. What?  But when I mention it he flies off the handle.  I think he is worried about selling our house or rather not selling our house.  He works himself into such over excitement when anyone comes to look at it then goes into a rage when they don't buy it.  I have a more laid back approach to it all - nobody is going to buy our house, if they do it will be a major bloody miracle.

Another gorgeous sunny day.  I am Fitbit Queen.  Where shall I stagger today?

Coast

I have taken up walking.  I attach my little Fitbit to my self.  It is a dear pet.  Then off I set to explore the world.  So far I have clocked up 50 miles and I ache.  I pretended I was presenting an episode of  Coast and covered Dungeness to Hythe over the weekend.  I am now top walkist on my group walking chart.  I now feel so knackered I might have to shake it a bit to make it think I am walking today whilst watching afternoon telly.  I might go for a gentle swim.  It doesn't like water.

I am going on holiday to Turkey with T to ride in a balloon over the weirdest landscape you could ever imagine.  It looks like Gormenghast.  Extraordinary volcanic planes that rise up into fairy castles in peaks and spikes.  We go next month for a week, taking in Istanbul on the way.  I have to do nothing but pay and ride.  Suits me.

So exciting; my first belly dancing class takes place tonight.  I have a period which is just dreadful timing.  I felt absolutely grim last night - horizontal with hotty on lap and need of another for back.  I survived but Mr Smith was a perfect pig all evening.  He is so stroppy and so contrary these days.  He is being quite vile.

We have sold Worthing again.  First time it fell through.  Why do people put in an offer before they have their finances sorted out?  Crazy and very rude.  I told Mr Smith to ring the agent and say yes.  Oh no, he wasn't doing that; we would hold out for more money and he wasn't selling it.  So I rang the agent for him so he could tell him his definite decision ... and he said yes.  What?

He is being contrary in all things.  He is driving me bonkers.  I must get him to stop this loony behaviour.  Yes means yes not no.  He makes me want to cry.  I asked him to take and collect me from the airport for my forthcoming Turkish trip.  I did it for him in the middle of the night not so long ago but he has selective memory.  Since he says no he will not take me he probably will, and collect me.  No means yes.  Yes, it is torture because you don't know whether to book tickets or not.  He said he would not call Canada to make our room reservations but then I found him slamming down the phone because it was on voicemail.  I will sort it out.  I will also sort him out.  But he will probably go off on one when I mention it.  But I have to .... or shoot myself.

Knitted moments

Mrs T was buried in style.  Beautiful service in St Paul's - watched a bit on telly- quite lovely.
Mad Carina came round and was marginally less bonkers.  She is woefully vacuous.  Oh well.
My garden is looking stunningly wonderful.  It was so worth planting all those damned bulbs.  They worked.

Walked a lot yesterday when not cramming biscuits into mouth and wondering why so vast.  I got a horrid blister from new Nikes that don't really fit.

Found superb knitting group in Waterloo.  Most people were from my area of London.. I suppose that's from where the train goes to Waterloo.  It was a brill group in a lovely lovely shop full of delicious yarns - no acrylic anywhere.  I chose some hand dyed silk at £20 a skein.  For what?  Well with some very expensive knitting needles I am knitting it.  A charming girl with bright pink hair wrote me a little pattern and away I went.  I will definitely go again.  I met Mad Maurice there.  He gets everywhere and I often meet him in a class or on the bus or in the library or at a show or in a queue or at a knitting group - total lunatic, wears shorts the year round but a very good knitter.  He has a enormous number of lady friends so one assumes he is never short of a shag which for an ugly loon is quite clever.

Thinking of taking up belly dancing and giving up sugar ... As one does.

Sugar Baby Love

Momentarily forgot that jelly babies contain sugar.  Oh well.  Had a chocolate biscuit instead.
Now have decided to do this no sugar thing properly after reading article in Sat Torygraph in the teeny space not taken up by Margaret Thatcher - her voice used to irritate me.  Anyway, sugar is basically a dreadful addictive drug that rots your teeth, liver, pancreas and other bits of you that you hope to never see.

Poor marathon runners in Boston.  I know all that running is a bit tedious but blowing people's arms and legs off seems a bit drastic to make a point.  I think those bombers should be made to run marathons as a punishment - maybe without their arms and legs.

Went to visit Agent Annie in her hotel at Gatwick last night.  I met baby Charlotte who is quite delightful. So glad I went.  Annie and I sorted out money and who we both hate.  A brilliant evening all round.

And now my sugar free breakfast awaits me.  Perfect.  I will be soon.