Ifell over again! This time a not so innocent young dog WAS involved in my downfall. My knees are black, blue, light ochre, mauve, and there are also unseasonal shades of orange, but this might be to do with an ink spillage.
AND I AM FED UP. I am fed up with the weather. I feel as if I’m a character living within a cartoon and every time I leave my cartoon house another character comes along and throws an enormous bucket of water over me and then the whole audience watching the cartoon fall about laughing as I stand there dripping from eyelash to well manicured toenail. FED UP I tell you.
Meanwhile, I have completed ONE Loopy Letter. I have written about it on my Loopy Letter website. But, I am fed up with myself for not getting more done. It is an awkward time of year for me though, what with being preoccupied with towels, and hair dryers, and trying to stop the mud from coming through the front door. And when I am not doing battle with what other people fondly refer to as ‘the outside’ I am feeding a wood burning stove a large chunk of forest. Do you know how much dust a wood burner makes???? It looks so cosy on Pinterest – stylish, clean, tidy. The reality is a thick coat of dust over everything, and chips of wood and sawdust trodden into rugs and carpets. Apologies, I am whingeing.
Anyhow, here is a snippet of my first Loopy Letter…..
First Loopy Letter….
News regarding The Scarlet Blue Ten Years of Blogging Celebrations!! To be held in June 2018!! Watch the space…. but move aside swiftly if you see a grey cloud clutching a bucket of water heading towards you.
Apologies for my tardy, and possibly tawdry felicitations. I have been involved in a minor mishap involving Storm Eleanor, a tree, and a muddy public footpath. The dog was also there, but is a blameless innocent creature. It was my own stupid fault for trying to jump down from the trunk of a fallen tree and misjudging the distance from trunk to ground. I landed badly, twisted my ankle, and possibly caused some damage to my knee. I shall gloss over the part where I nearly passed out in a deserted country lane. I am not one to make a fuss, it’s not like I was going to lay there undiscovered for weeks on end – hell, if the worst came to the worst I could have simply pulled out my smart phone and published a blog post to alert people of my distress, failing that I could have rung the emergency services.
Anyhow, all is well now, other than a twinge in my knee, and I still feel a bit odd. As part of my recovery process I have been propped up on the sofa watching box sets. So far I have watched all seasons of Stranger Things; Feud; and The Tunnel. I have become something of a TV drama addict, so imagine how thrilled I was when Killer Women with Pie appeared on my TV guide….
New Bake Off!!!
What could this be? Could it be a new Bake Off programme featuring female serial killers showing off their soggy bottoms? Or was it about dangerous femme fatales with a weakness for pastry nibbles? Even better, was it a new psychological drama whereby a crusty British detective and his French female counterpart race against time to prevent a batch of mince pies from going stale midway between Folkestone and Calais? Sadly, it was none of these, it was Killer Women with a pasty, patronising geezer. Programme makers please note that Killer Women with Pie had so much more potential.
Happy New Year!!!! Here’s hoping that all major drama in 2018 is fictional and confined to our TV screens!
It is November 2nd and of course the weather here is glorious….
Mud??? What mud???
Remember this view back in July look at it now that it’s November!!! I thought I ought to redress the balance as I’m always complaining about the endless rivers of mud, but sometimes… often…it is beautiful here.
The yellow flowers?? A mustard crop. Right… I am busy doing things… I will tell you later. And I got a bath mat. It is in the bath.
Who would have thought that purchasing a new bath mat could be so complicated, and that it would lead to me trawling through online dictionaries, wasting hours of time, when I could have been soaking in a…er… hot bath. It all started at Boots.com [the UK department store, which sells lotions and potions and all things smelly… talking of smelly, Mr Beastie has briefly resurfaced] whereupon I entered the words ‘bath’ and ‘mat’ in the search box.
Please see exhibit A – click to make big.
‘Did you mean to search for Bath Mat? Showing results for ‘max”, replied Boots.com. BUT I DID SEARCH FOR BATH MAT, I howled at the screen. I looked at the search box carefully. I scrutinised it, perhaps I’d typed in ‘enormous maximus’ by mistake as I am wont to do. It seems that Boots were not used to me enquiring about anything so prosaic as a bath mat. Why was I not indulging myself with cosmetics and tooth whitener as I usually do? Boots obviously thought it knew me better.
Please see exhibit B – click to make big.
I then had a brain wave, perhaps ‘bath mat’ is all one word… et voilà…. I found the virtual bathmat aisle. So I thought: fair enough, now I know that bathmat is one word…. but of course I had to check AND ALL THE DICTIONARIES DISAGREE. *WordPress doesn’t seem to like it; my Apple dictionary says NO. My Collins Gem dictionary has no trace of ‘bathmat’. Google seems confused. I am none the wiser…. but does it really matter?
Who cares how it’s spelt, all that matters is that I don’t slip in the bath and bruise my buttocks whilst taking a shower. I CARE. I BLOODY CARE. WHO AM I KIDDING TO SAY THAT I DON’T???????????? I WANT A DEFINITIVE ANSWER AND I WANT IT NOW. AND IF BATHMAT IS TWO WORDS I CAN WRITE TO BOOTS AND TELL THEM THEY ARE WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WHAT RIGHT HAVE THEY GOT TO BASTARDISE THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE FOR THE SAKE OF THEIR NONSENSICAL STUPID FRUSTRATING STUPID DAFT BUGGERING ALGORITHMS?????
…and breathe. Life has been a tad stressful lately. I will now log off and feed the dog.
*To be fair, WordPress doesn’t seem keen on ‘Bastardise’ and ‘Buggering’ either, so it doesn’t know everything.
Before I continue with all things bottled I have a question: Who did you expect to be when you grew up? As a child I took it as read that I would grow up to be a sophisticated middle-aged woman who would travel the world wearing top of the range frocks from House of Fraser and make polite conversation, late into the night, with the occasional French gentleman. I believed my future would look something akin to this……
If this was not to be then I at least expected dinner party invitations for every night of the week so that I could stuff my face with After Eight mints whilst wearing the aforementioned top of the range frock, although perhaps something more slutty from Debenhams or British Home Stores [RIP]……
In a nutshell I expected a glittering, glamorous future, full of fancy frocks, and worthy enough to merit a pithy voiceover. When the transition from eating fish finger sandwiches from a tray on my lap in front of the telly to being an internationally adored lady of leisure with an inexhaustible expense account would happen I didn’t know, but happen it would. Only it didn’t. I am still waiting.
The problem is that the future I imagined is impossible because this future is very much set in the past. I was set up for disappointment the moment these adverts hit my TV screen. Did anyone ever live like this? In any case, the dinner parties I have attended have had more in common with this…
No fancy frocks, just best jeans and a paper napkin to protect a nice top from gravy staining. Sigh. Obviously I was a gullible child when I was suckered by these adverts, although in fairness, I was more taken with the lifestyles promoted than the actual products; we always had After Eights at Christmas and we were allowed to eat them for breakfast whilst wearing pyjamas.
Anyhow, before I get on with my bottle project let us return to my question: Who, or how, did you expect to be when you grew up? I am not expecting anyone to be as shallow as me, hopefully you all aspired to greater things than living life in an advertisement for After Eight.
Er…. well, I missed a day, but we are all friends here. My days are longer than other people’s and sometimes they can stretch to as long as a week. Obviously the word ‘Daily’ is subjective…. and perhaps I should substitute it with a more realistic word, such as ‘Frequent’?
Anyhow, moving swiftly on, I had something very exciting planned for today that would have had EVERYBODY sitting on the edge of their seats and hanging on my every word, BUT, that idea has gone tits up now. I will save it for another day. My email account stopped me in my tracks.
I deactivated my Twitter account in 2013, but ever since I have been receiving messages from Twitter in Japanese, I simply mark them as spam – I thought they were from some sort of scammer trying to get me to click on a dodgy link, so I’d mark them as spam and then delete. How sensible of me. Today I took a closer look at one of these Twitter emails and, investigated further…. okay, so the upshot is that someone in Japan has been using my email address for their Twitter account for the past 4 years. Sigh. I’ve now managed to change the password on this account and I am now the proud owner of a Japanese Twitter account… I have logged out of it, which was tricky because I can’t read Japanese and even the ‘translate’ button was difficult to find; I am not sure what would’ve happened if I’d fiddled in the settings. The thing is I’d like to deactivate it, but I feel like I’d be walking into somebody else’s house if I log in again…. which just goes to show the sort of soppy date I really am! I’d also really, really like to know how this happened…. did someone, back in 2013, hack my email account??? Questions, questions… surely Twitter would have sent me a confirmation email… in Japanese??? I would have deleted that.
If anyone would like further details, then… er… please email me. In English.